Biological Families
by a-delacroix
Summary: *!* COMPLETE *!* Clark, Lana, and Whitney travel to 1936 Nazi Germany to save their friends. Special Guest Stars: Dr. and Mrs. Indiana Jones and Var El of Krypton. Note: This is a sequel to 'The Portal'.
1. Default Chapter

Biological Families  
  
Author: duane at duaneaakre dot com  
  
Disclaimer: As always I own nothing. Well I own a house, two cars, a pair of jetskis, and a lot of other junk, but none of these characters.  
  
Story Rating: R [The story may drift into the HBO range rather than stay in the WB range, so to be on the safe side, I am rating this R.]  
  
Author's Notes: Hi! This story is a sequel to 'The Portal', although I have tried to make it a stand-alone story by covering the key points from the earlier story, which might be needed by new readers, in the first couple of chapters. It is challenging to compress a long convoluted story which built up slowly over 150,000 words into a few paragraphs without it immediately seeming too outrageous. Hopefully, people who have read the previous story won't be bored by the opening sections, I have tried to twist things around and add some new things to get this story going.  
  
This story starts the day after the end of 'The Portal' which is about one week before the Spring Formal Dance at the end of season 1. The first couple of chapters will cover some of the events that occur during the season 1 finale, but if you have read my earlier story, you know I like to do original stories, not just regurgitate things already seen with only a slight twist. So, the first couple chapters may seem familiar, but they will set things in motion that will head the story off in an entirely different direction than the show went in season 2. (Someone in an earlier review said they wanted to see what happened when my story got to the Indian Cave portion of season 2. Sorry, but I never cared for that storyline and I don't think it will be in my story. I have some different ideas for achieving similar things.)  
  
I want to thank the people who included some suggestions in their reviews at the end of the other story as to what they would like to see in a sequel. I think with the story I have in mind, I will be able to work a number of them in. About the title, 'Biological Families'; most stories about time travel, including my first one, focus on dumping the main characters into some epic time, like ancient Rome or the Middle Ages, and then have them endure some desperate struggles before finding their way home. It makes for an exciting story, but if you really had a time machine, is that how you would use it? For me, I think I would use it to go back and spend time with family and friends who are no longer with us. [Everyone when they want to discuss a time paradox, talk about going back and killing your own grandfather. Who are these people? I would like to go back and talk to my grandfather, not kill him!] Anyway, that's why at the end of the last story I had Chloe use the time machine to retrieve Lana's parents and Lex's Mom. So this story is part a story about them getting reacquainted with their families and part a story about Chloe and Clark's quest to find their own 'biological' families. Hopefully, that doesn't sound too boring, as the focus of the story will be on the four main characters and their relationships. I do have a few big action sequences dancing around in the back of my head that I think will ramp things up to a level beyond what was seen in the previous story, however you will have to be patient for a few chapters :)  
  
Anyway, enough of my rambling, I am sure it is the story you are here for. I hope you enjoy it!  
  
Chapter 1  
  
Martha Kent knelt in the small family garden beside the cozy yellow farmhouse. It was late on a beautiful spring afternoon and she wanted to get the tomato plants in before starting dinner. Although, if she was really truthful with herself, she had to admit the tomato plants were not the true reason she was out here. No, the reason was Clark. From here she could watch the road for almost a mile as it led up to their drive.  
  
Yesterday, Clark and a group of his sophomore classmates had gone to Metropolis for a tour and orientation session at Metropolis University. The bus had left Smallville High at six thirty in the morning and was due back at seven in the evening. However at three in the afternoon she had received a call from Clark at the University. An unexpected call about his running into Lex on campus and Lex offering Clark, Chloe, and Lana tickets to a concert that evening and then a late night ride home in his limo. Even though Clark kept his voice light and easy, Martha knew her son well; something was going on that might need his 'special' gifts. She acquiesced to his request knowing she had to learn to trust his judgment in these matters, but still she was a Mom and had a normal Mother's fears.  
  
Fears that were not eased by a call they had received from Chloe at one thirty in the morning. She had explained the concert was running later than they expected and Lex had volunteered to let them spend the night at his penthouse apartment in the city. On the surface it sounded innocent enough and under other circumstances it would have been almost funny. Clark had been mooning over Lana for years, but had seen the light and finally asked Chloe to the spring dance only three days earlier. Now he was spending the night with the pair of them in what the Metropolis Inquisitor had once called 'The Ultimate Bachelor Pad'.  
  
However Chloe's explanation of why she was calling instead of Clark didn't ring true. Martha had been on edge ever since Clark's call ten hours earlier and now this strange call from Chloe did nothing to sooth her fears. It wasn't until after four a.m. that Clark called to let them know everything was fine. From his voice she could tell whatever crisis had been going on in Metropolis was over, but there was also an undertone of excitement she had never heard in Clark's voice before.  
  
At last, a little over twenty four hours after the first call from Clark, she saw the black stretch limo gliding down the road towards their farm. Gathering up her gardening tools, Martha rose and headed towards the driveway to meet him.  
  
The limo rolled to a stop about fifteen feet from where Martha stood. After Clark exited the car, he paused and reached back in to assist Chloe. Then clasping her hand, he headed over to his Mom.  
  
Martha watched the pair approach, taking in the hands and the goofy expression on Clark's face. Obviously, their relationship had progressed a lot since they had left for Metropolis yesterday. Suddenly, Martha had to ask herself, 'How far?' And from the expression on Clark's face it was more than just holding hands.  
  
So, Martha was a little surprised when Chloe ran up and hugged her.  
  
"Mrs. Kent, it is so good to see you."  
  
Between the hug and words, Chloe was acting as though it was a lot longer than a couple of days since she had seen her. "It's good to see you, too, Chloe."  
  
As she stepped away, Chloe's eyes were almost shining.  
  
"Mom, where's Dad? There are some things we need to talk about."  
  
For some reason, just for a moment, Martha had this mental image of Clark telling her he and Chloe had eloped while they had been in Metropolis, the marriage ceremony a simple spur of the moment civil service with Clark dressed in a nice suit and Chloe in a simple white dress. She shook her head, Clark was too sensible to do something like that. Then she realized part of what had triggered this response; Clark was wearing a pair of dark slacks, a white dress shirt open at the collar, and dark brown dress shoes. He definitely had been wearing his usual blue jeans, checkered shirt, red sweatshirt, and work boots when he had left for Metropolis yesterday.  
  
"Clark, what happened to the clothes you were wearing when you left yesterday?"  
  
Clark looked down as if noticing for the first time something was amiss with his attire. Shrugging, he said, "That's one of the things we need to talk about. Where's Dad?"  
  
It wasn't like Clark to put her off like that. Usually it only happened when the explanation involved his special 'gifts' and they needed to wait until they were alone. But it was apparent Clark was not stalling until Chloe was gone. Martha felt her tension level rise. Something life- changing was about to happen, she could feel it in her bones. It seemed best to get things out into the open as quickly as possible.  
  
"Your father is out in the barn. Why don't you fetch him while Chloe and I head up to the house? I need to get dinner started."  
  
Clark nodded and headed towards the barn.  
  
"So Chloe, how was your visit to the University?"  
  
"Hmm, I guess if I had to pick one word: eventful."  
  
'Eventful,' thought Martha. 'That clarifies everything.' What did Martha say now, when what she wanted to ask was, 'Did you sleep with my little boy?'  
  
"Eventful?" she finally echoed.  
  
"Yeah, although that hardly covers things. Let's wait for Mr. Kent so we can go over things just once."  
  
Since Chloe wasn't going to give her any hints about what had happened at the University, Martha tried another tack. "So, what is the 'Ultimate Bachelor Pad' like?"  
  
For just an instant, Chloe stared at her blankly like she had no idea what Martha was talking about. Then she answered, "Oh, we never quite made it there. At the concert we ran into my cousin, Lois, and we ended up spending the night at her apartment."  
  
Chloe hated to lie, but decided this was more in the range of a fib. She and Clark did technically end up at Lois' apartment. Not that she was quite ready to explain how she had been living two lives and for the past few years had also been Lois, part-time college journalist and part-time physics doctoral candidate.  
  
Then it struck her. One look at Clark, and Martha had known something was going on between them. This was definitely going to complicate things.  
  
"I don't believe you have mentioned having a cousin in Metropolis before."  
  
"Well, since my Dad and I moved to Smallville three years ago, I haven't gotten to see her too often. She is a student at the University working on her PhD in physics."  
  
"Physics? Clark has always had an interest in science."  
  
"Yeah, I know. That's why we decided to hang out with her, so Clark could get some first hand information on the science programs at Metropolis U. instead of just the 'canned' material they provided during our orientation session."  
  
Martha started to relax a little, if they had been with Chloe's older cousin, things couldn't have gone too far. Lex seemed like a nice young man and tried hard to make a positive impression on her and Jonathan, but she still wasn't certain she trusted Clark and Chloe alone with him overnight in Metropolis.  
  
"Where's Lana? I didn't notice the limo stop over at Nell's place."  
  
"Ahh, she stayed in Metropolis. She and Lex ran into some very dear old friends and they needed some time to get reacquainted," answered Chloe realizing how suspicious that sounded, even to her. Come on, Clark, get in here and let's get things out in the open, I hate having to do this double- talk with your Mom.  
  
Just then the screen door in the hallway banged shut and they could hear the men come in laughing about something.  
  
As they walked into the kitchen, Martha couldn't hold her patience any longer.  
  
"Clark, what has been going on? I can see something has changed in your face and Chloe's."  
  
A serious expression came over his face, but Clark didn't immediately speak. He walked over to the table and pulled out the chair next to Chloe. As he sat down, he intertwined his fingers with hers on top of the table. Taking a deep breathe, Clark decided to get past one of the hardest parts first. This wasn't what they had agreed during the drive down from Metropolis, but suddenly it felt about the right way to start a long, difficult, almost impossible to believe conversation.  
  
"Chloe, Lana, and Lex know my secret."  
  
Martha and Jonathan stared at him in shock for a moment. They had put a lot of hard work into protecting his secret all of these years and now, with one simple sentence, it might all have been for naught.  
  
As one, they turned to look at Chloe. She nodded.  
  
Knowing their concerns, her first reaction was to try and reassure them. "Clark's secret is safe with us. We all feel a special bond with Clark and will do anything we can to protect him."  
  
It was Jonathan who recovered first. "How? Why?"  
  
Clark looked down at the table for a minute while rubbing his thumb along the top of Chloe's hand. "It's a long, complicated story. Even after seeing the things I can do and after all of the encounters with the meteor freaks, you are still going to find this hard to believe. I lived through these events and I have moments where it doesn't seem real to me either."  
  
"Clark, just start at the beginning," his Mom said.  
  
Clark almost wasn't certain himself where the beginning of the story was. "You last saw me about six yesterday morning?" Clark began in a tone that was as much question as statement. When his parents nodded uncertainly, he continued, "For me, that was three weeks ago."  
  
"Wait a minute, son. How could yesterday be three weeks ago?" asked Jonathan.  
  
Seeing how Clark was struggling to get the words out, Chloe stepped in. "We ran into Lex at the Student Union during lunch. Lex was on campus to do a semi-annual review of a physics project LuthorCorp was funding. Since we had an extra hour to kill before our afternoon session, Lex invited Clark, Lana, and me on a tour of the physics building while he had his meeting.  
  
"After our tour, we returned to the lab where Lex was having his meeting to find the Professor in charge ranting and raving about Lex's interference. Lex in turn was making serious noises about removing the Professor from the project and seeing about getting his tenure revoked.  
  
"The professor started powering up his test equipment and then at the tenure comment by Lex, the Professor took a wild swing at Lex. After a little pushing and shoving, the Professor grabbed Lana and pulled her through his device."  
  
"What do you mean, 'through the device'?" asked Martha.  
  
At this point Clark took up the story again. "It turns out Lionel Luthor has been funding meteor rock studies at the U. from almost the day of the meteor shower."  
  
Jonathan broke in with a quick, "That son of a bitch," before Martha put a restraining hand on his forearm to prevent the inevitable rant and let Clark and Chloe continue with their story.  
  
Clark merely shook his head in agreement before continuing. "Eventually they found some useful properties in the rocks and built the machine to harness them."  
  
"What kind of properties?" asked his Mom.  
  
"To get Lex to continue the funding, the Professor had been telling him that a device channeling its power through the meteor rocks could open a doorway to any other point on the planet and all you would have to do is walk through to be there."  
  
"That sounds pretty hard to believe, son."  
  
"Well, we watched the Professor pull Lana through a doorway in what had been a blank wall and several seconds later it was again a blank wall. No secret passageways or other sleight of hand tricks that we could find. Even using my x-ray vision I couldn't find a trace of them."  
  
Martha was watching Chloe as Clark said this last part and she didn't show any signs of surprise at the mention of the x-ray vision. If the others knew about Clark's secret, Martha figured it would be the obvious parts like his incredible strength and speed. But apparently, at least Chloe knew everything.  
  
"We had no idea where they had gone, but couldn't just leave Lana with the Professor. If he was willing to grab her, who knew what else he might do. So, after letting the power recycle for an hour, which is when I called you with the story about the concert, Lex, Chloe, and I followed them through the doorway."  
  
"God, Clark," said his father shaking his head. "That sounds like an incredibly stupid thing to do."  
  
Clark shrugged. "We couldn't just leave Lana there. I didn't see any other viable course of action."  
  
"You still haven't explained your comment about how it has been three weeks since you have seen us," stated his Mom trying to get the conversation back on course.  
  
"It turns out the device was a lot more capable than the Professor had ever admitted to Lex. Oh, it can instantly open a doorway to any spot on earth. What the Professor neglected to explain was that it could also open the doorway to any other time. That's right; the Professor's device is a fully functional time machine."  
  
"Time machine?" echoed Martha feeling like she had just stepped straight into a 'Twilight Zone' episode, not that life in Smallville during the past year hadn't come close a few times without even anything as outrageous as a time machine.  
  
"Yeah, a time machine. When we passed through the device, we discovered Lana tied up on the other side. However the Professor had removed the meteor rocks from the equipment on that side and until we found him, we had no way of using the device to get back to the school. Only after we started our search for the Professor did we discover we were in the ancient Roman Empire in the year 37 A.D. just outside the town which would one day become Toulouse, France."  
  
"You, you . . . you were in the year 37 A.D.?" sputtered Martha trying to comprehend the impossible.  
  
Clark nodded and squeezed Chloe's hand. "If Chloe and Lex hadn't known a little Latin, I don't know how we all would have survived."  
  
"And this is when you revealed your 'secret'?" asked Jonathan.  
  
Clark shook his head. "I thought about it a lot, but as usual I tried to do what needed to be done without giving myself away. It wasn't until we got to Rome when the situation spiraled out of control."  
  
"You went to Rome?"  
  
"The Professor managed to set up the time machine to give himself a day's head start. It also turned out he had allies back there from previous trips and his plan was to use Lana as bait to draw Lex through the machine to have him killed on the other side. The Professor had been acquiring antiquities directly from the source and bringing them forward in time to sell on the black market. He had decided he no longer needed Lex's financial support and if Lex was killed back in time, there wouldn't be a body to cause him trouble here.  
  
"However the professor didn't like to get his own hands dirty, so he headed for Rome while leaving a group of mercenary guards to take care of Lex and anyone with him. I managed to slow them down long enough to allow us to get clear of Toulouse and on the Professor's trail.  
  
"It took us a week to reach Rome. Unfortunately, the head of the Praetorian Guard in Rome was an accomplice of the Professor's from our time, whom they had set up in that position of power ten years earlier. That commander of the guard kidnapped Chloe and Lana with the intention of executing them at the gladiatorial games like something out of an old 'Christians versus the Lions' movie from the fifties. That's when I couldn't come up with any way of saving the girls without revealing my secret."  
  
Martha's memory flashed back to watching the movie, 'The Robe', with the Christians led out into the stadium to meet their fate at the hands of the ravenous lions as the crowds in the stadium cheered. "Oh, my god, lions," she whispered.  
  
"Actually, that day it was about one hundred and fifty bears from the Black Forest in Germany. Unfortunately, Lex and I didn't discover where the girls were until it was almost too late. We only made it in time because I carried Lex in 'speed mode' and then I defeated the bears by discovering a new ability the hard way."  
  
Clark hated to tell his parents this abbreviated version of the facts. But this version was hard enough to believe and the truth that he had arrived too late and the girls were already dead was beyond his ability to tell at the moment without breaking down. Plus the secrets involved in that part of the story were not his alone to divulge.  
  
"What new ability?" asked his Father.  
  
Clark glanced around the room until he spotted a group of candles arranged among some fresh cut flowers on the sideboard. Focusing his vision, in a fraction of a second all six candles were burning brightly.  
  
His parents had followed his gaze and looked at the candles in astonishment.  
  
"That first day at the stadium when this new 'heat vision' kicked in, it was so scary and I felt totally out of control."  
  
Martha was wondering how starting small fires with his eyes could leave him feeling so out of control.  
  
Chloe could see the Kents didn't understand the magnitude of Clark's heat vision abilities and jumped in to explain. "Lighting those candles is just a small parlor trick. At the arena with the heat vision at full power, it was unbelievable. Large swathes of the sandy arena floor were turned into rivers of molten glass. Two inch thick iron bars were instantly vaporized under his gaze. Large portions of the wooden seating were soon engulfed in flames. It was almost like the arena had descended into hell itself."  
  
Martha shuddered, as once more it was driven home how unusual her son was. How would he ever have a normal life? How was it Chloe could sit there calmly holding his hand and not run from him in terror?  
  
"Oh, Clark," was all Martha was able to get out.  
  
Clark shrugged. "At least we all survived the events in the arena and we managed to retrieve the meteor rocks from the Professor. During the week and a half it took us to get back to the device hidden outside Toulouse, I did manage to learn to control the heat vision."  
  
"So you had to lug the meteor rocks around for ten days before you got back to Toulouse?" asked Jonathan of his son with a quick meaningful flicker of his eyes towards Chloe.  
  
Clark understood the hidden question about whether the others knew about his weakness in addition to his strengths. "Chloe knows the effect meteor rocks have on me. I needed her help to locate a lead box to carry the rocks. Lana also may know about the rocks, but I don't think Lex does."  
  
Jonathan released a quiet sigh of relief; it was bad enough that Lex knew about Clark's 'gifts'.  
  
Martha also released a sigh, but it was more one of exasperation. "I hate these stories where there isn't a shred of proof they ever occurred. Are you sure it wasn't just a dream?"  
  
"Yeah, right, Mom. All four of us sharing exactly the same dream," Clark paused for a moment for another deep breathe before dropping the other bombshell. "Besides, we do have proof time-travel is possible."  
  
"What kind of proof?" asked Martha and Jonathan almost simultaneously.  
  
"Well, time travel can result in strange things, like how your yesterday is three weeks ago for me. Anyway, Chloe arrived back before the rest of us and she used the extra time to rescue Lana's parents before they were killed in the meteor shower. Right this minute they are at Lex's apartment in Metropolis, perfectly healthy and not a day older than when the meteor shower hit. Oh, and she brought back Lex's Mom, Lillian, too."  
  
Martha looked at Chloe for confirmation. "All three of them are really alive?"  
  
"Yeah, it is strange how time-loops work sometimes. I arrived back a couple of years before the others and since an earlier me already existed in Smallville, I couldn't come back here. So I ended up wangling a research assistant position with the Professor, helping develop his device just to keep an eye on things. Ultimately, I had a part in sending myself and the others back in time to close the loop. While I had several years to kill, I came up with the idea to pull Lana's parents out just before the meteor hit and then to retrieve Lex's Mom, too. After the things we went through in ancient Rome, well, after Clark; Lex and Lana are my best friends and I had to do what I could to make their lives happier. However, I am not sure how Lex and Lana are going to deal publicly with their parents appearing to have returned from the dead, so for the moment, treat this like you would Clark's secret."  
  
Martha's mind boggled at the concept that three people everyone had thought were dead for years and years were suddenly back. Finally, she focused on the part of the story she could almost understand. "Oh, Chloe, I wondered why you reacted so strongly when you arrived. So for Clark it has been three weeks since he left on the field trip to Metropolis U., but for you it has been several years? It must have been so hard to be all alone for all that time."  
  
Chloe's eyes teared up a little. If only Martha knew the true magnitude of what she had been through. "Yeah, it was hard. But I kept myself busy working on the device and, you know me, I also talked my way into a part- time position on the university paper."  
  
All of a sudden, things clicked in Martha's head. "Chloe, this mysterious cousin Lois at the university, she is really you, right?"  
  
Chloe started to nod and then her eyes widened as she realized the cat was out of the bag. She had told Martha she and Clark had spent the night at Lois' apartment. Shit.  
  
Jonathan looked from Martha with the intense expression on her face to Chloe with the look of a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Something more important and more personal was going on than stories about time-travel and long dead parents returning.  
  
"Martha?"  
  
Martha looked at the pleading expression in Chloe's face as she watched her eyes tear up. Then Martha looked at Clark who was still casually holding Chloe's hand and didn't realize what was going on between the two women. Finally, she looked at Jonathan. After twenty years together they knew each other so well it was almost like they could read the other's mind. Jonathan hadn't yet put two and two together and come up with five, but it wouldn't take him long if she didn't change the course of the conversation.  
  
The question was how did she want to handle this? Even though it hadn't been said directly; it was now apparent Clark and Chloe had been sleeping together back in ancient Rome. Certainly the life and death struggle in that barbaric arena, when they didn't know if they would ever get home, would have been enough to push any man and woman into each other's arms. And then the several year separation after Chloe somehow returned so much earlier than Clark. If they were just reunited last night, she could again understand the emotions and actions getting out of control.  
  
If she brought things to a head now, what would be the consequences? Would Jonathan try to force Clark and Chloe back to some lesser level of involvement? Would it force Clark and Chloe to take some step that they would all come to regret?  
  
No, it was better if the subject was dropped for the moment until she could think things through and maybe talk to Clark and Chloe one-on-one.  
  
"Later, dear. I think it is time you all get washed up for dinner; I will have something ready in a few minutes. After all of the excitement, I am afraid it is only going to be a salad and cold cuts."  
  
"Ah, thanks, Mrs. Kent," said Chloe, letting Martha know it was meant on several different levels. "But I really need to be getting home."  
  
Clark turned to her. "I thought you would want to see the spaceship."  
  
Chloe smiled at him. She dearly wanted to stay with Clark at this moment, but knew it would be best to give Clark's Mom some time to deal with the things she knew and with her husband. "Clark, I really do, but it has been a long time since I have seen my Dad. The spaceship has been waiting for many years; it will still be there tomorrow."  
  
Clark nodded. He could understand her wanting to see Gabe again after all of this time. Standing up from the table, Clark walked over to the peg board by the door where the various keys were hung. Selecting the keys to the truck, he said. "Mom, Dad, I am going to run Chloe home. I'll be back in an hour."  
  
Martha and Jonathan followed them out onto the porch and stood watching as they walked hand-in-hand over to where the old battered red pickup was parked about thirty feet short of the barn. Watching them, Martha was struck by how they seemed the perfect couple. Even with all of Clark's unique 'gifts', Chloe strangely seemed his match. Was it the last couple of years, where she had been forced to live on her own in Metropolis, which had given her the sudden extra maturity?  
  
As they got out of earshot of their parents, Clark said. "That went easier than I was expecting, although I can't believe it will take them long after the shock wears off to notice all of the glaring holes in that version of story. I have never told them anything but the complete truth before."  
  
"Clark, your mom knows."  
  
"Knows what?"  
  
"Knows about us. I think as soon as she saw you she knew on some instinctive level we were sleeping together. But stupid me, I told her on the walk up to the house we spent the night at Lois' apartment."  
  
Clark was silent for a moment, then he shrugged. "I agree with the need to keep your secret and now Lex and Lana's, too, from them, but our relationship does effect them. I don't know how we will handle it yet, but I don't want to go sneaking around behind their backs. If it comes to it, I would rather share your secret with them than lie about our relationship."  
  
"Clark, I don't want to lie to your parents either, but I don't know that telling them about my past is going to make it any easier for them to handle things between us. I mean, if they are bothered because they think we are too young, how are they going to handle my age and the knowledge I have been married hundreds of times and have had hundreds of children? I am afraid they will freak, which is the usual response of the majority of people who don't think I am just plain crazy."  
  
They had just climbed into the truck and Clark reached over and clasped her hand. "I don't think you're crazy and I won't freak out."  
  
Clark let go of her hand and was moving to insert the key in the ignition when some sixth sense or subtle clue below his level of consciousness kicked his x-ray vision into gear. Looking down, he saw the incendiary device attached to the bottom of the fuel tank go off. While his body was accelerating up into speed mode he helplessly watched the gasoline ignite, increasing the magnitude of the explosion. Clark knew in a matter of milliseconds the whole truck, and the girl he loved, would be consumed in flames.  
  
------------------------  
  
Lana snuggled closer into Lex's arms enjoying the sense of security they provided. As she lay there, she tried to understand why everything felt so strange since awakening back in the physics lab at Metropolis University. And it wasn't just suddenly finding the parents she had never known, alive and well. No, everything felt different: her body, her senses, even her head. Was it some weird after-effect of having been dead? Her body continuously felt abuzz with . . . oh, what was the best word . . . ahh, yes, vitality. Everything, all the colors and sounds and odors, seemed so vibrant. And, as they lay on the couch in the living room of Lex's apartment, how was it she simply knew the large stain glass window on the other side of the room was exactly twenty seven feet, eight inches away and was composed of 1,264 chips of green glass, 753 chips of yellow, 312 chips of blue, 78 chips of orange, and 2,491 chips of clear glass?  
  
Feeling Lex start to stir, she slowly rotated her body around until she was facing him rather than the window. Looking at his face, she had to reach up and stroke his rich auburn hair. It took some getting used to, but she was finding she liked the new look.  
  
Slowly Lex's eyes opened. The first thing he saw was Lana's face, up so close it seemed like all he could see were eyes. Eyes almost closed down to slits which meant if he looked down he would see a big smile across the lower portion of her face.  
  
"Morning."  
  
"I think good afternoon would be more accurate."  
  
Lex looked around. They were on the couch in the living room of his apartment in Metropolis, not on some divan in ancient Rome. Then Lex came fully awake as he remembered the events of the previous evening: the return to the present via the Professor's device, the self-sacrifice of Laura to allow Lana a chance to regain access to her own body, the reawakening of Lana for the first time since her 'death' in the Roman arena, the revelation of Laura's continued quasi-existence in a virtual reality region of Chloe's nanobot enhanced mind, Chloe's destruction of the Professor's time machine, the discovery of Chloe's role as the guiding force behind the development of the time machine, and, finally, Chloe's miraculous retrieval of his Mom and Lana's parents from their original deaths. The number of revelations he had experienced the previous night had been overwhelming. Perhaps that is why he had slept so long, to give his subconscious time to process all of the new data.  
  
Lex reached up to caress Lana's hair. She had experienced all of the same revelations, but didn't have the advantage of the two previous week's experiences to help mentally prepare her. In fact, from her perspective she had just 'died' in that ancient Roman arena one instant, and found herself alive in the Professor's lab the next. If everything had almost overwhelmed him, what about her?  
  
"Lana, how are you?"  
  
Lana looked into his eyes for a moment and could tell he wanted the truth. "I feel so. . . so . . . ahh, strange."  
  
Lex couldn't help but tense a little. "Strange good or strange bad?"  
  
Lana's face acquired a thoughtful look for a minute before she shook her head. "Just strange. Oh, not like I am about to die again or anything. In fact, my body feels incredible good like I have never been sick a day in my life, if you know what I mean."  
  
Lex nodded. He did know exactly what she meant. He had experienced the same feeling on numerous occasions over the past couple of weeks when Chloe or Laura had touched his body and activated his nanobots to heal his injuries or remove his fatigue. However, for him, the feeling started to fade as soon as the girls removed their touch, but for Lana the feeling would probably always exist except for a few seconds when she was seriously hurt.  
  
"Things were happening so fast and furious from the moment you awoke in the lab until we got here, we never had a chance to explain how Chloe saved you in the arena and which may also explain a lot about how you are feeling."  
  
Lana realized she had forgotten Lex had mentioned Chloe was the one who saved her after she 'died'. How did she bring people back from the dead? "I remember from last night Chloe also saying she waited until your Mom died before 'healing' her and sending her forward through the portal device to the present. How does Chloe bring people back from the dead?"  
  
Lex settled more comfortably back against the couch; this wasn't going to be a simple one minute explanation. "Chloe can't really bring people back from the dead. She can just 'heal' people up to a point in time after apparent death but before true death, which is the cessation of brain activity and shutdown of certain other bodily functions. In many cases, true death occurs about five minutes after apparent death. It is this extra five minute window that she used to save you and my Mom."  
  
"Okay, so I wasn't quite truly dead, it still doesn't explain how she saved me."  
  
"Remember Chloe explaining how her body is filled with nanobots to heal any injuries and how they keep her from getting old?"  
  
"Yeah, Lex, I remember all of that. I may have been dead, but it's not the same as amnesia. Chloe had the nanobots injected into her body by her biological father just before her original civilization collapsed seventeen thousand years ago. And her body has remained sixteen ever since."  
  
Lex was glad to hear it seemed like all of her memories were intact. During the two weeks Laura had inhabited her body, he had worried some of her memories would be lost or destroyed in the process, but apparently Laura had existed entirely within the 'bot system and hadn't significantly altered Lana's mind.  
  
"Okay, this ability of Chloe's to heal others was not part of the original design of her 'bot system, but when she was about seven thousand years old, she almost by accident figured out how to force her 'bots into other people's bodies and then use her internal healing abilities to heal the other person, too."  
  
Lana considered this for a moment. "You said last night Chloe had also healed injuries of yours, too. So are you feeling the same things I am?"  
  
Lex shook his head. "No. The nanobots are keyed to Chloe's genetic code. The 'bots in my body are inert except when she touches me."  
  
"Then why do they seem to be active in my body? I mean, if I go cut myself with a knife, I have this strong feeling the wound would instantly heal."  
  
"Yeah, Chloe says it has never happened before, but the 'bots are active in your body. Laura thinks it is due to your having worn that piece of meteor rock all those years. The meteor rocks seem to effect everything they come into contact with and apparently Chloe's 'bots are no exception."  
  
"You and Chloe have both mentioned this Laura several times. Who is she? Why don't I remember her?"  
  
Lex found talking about Laura hard. Knowing a virtual version of her still existed in Chloe's nanobot memory system made it a little easier, but he had grown to have feelings for her during the two weeks she had inhabited Lana's body. And now she was effectively gone.  
  
"When Chloe's 'bots first infiltrate the synapse of your brain, they try to download a backup copy of her memories into your mind. For me, it felt like I was experiencing an almost endless stream of moments from her long life. And all of those moments felt real rather than just a faded memory. I only experienced her memories for about five seconds before my body was healed and Chloe broke physical contact, and all of the 'bots in my body went inert. But by the end of those five seconds I almost felt like I had forgotten who I was.  
  
"Since the 'bots in your body remained active after Chloe stopped touching you, her memories never turned off. With all of her computer enhanced memories present, well, for all practical purposes, it was Chloe's mind in your body after your body was healed back in the arena."  
  
Lana just stared at Lex for several long moments. "So, for several weeks, I was alive and well, running around ancient Rome, but thought I was Chloe?"  
  
"You had all of her seventeen thousand years worth of memories and none of your own. You had all of her nanobot derived abilities like the healing, the enhanced reflexes, and the mind-link," Lex shrugged. "Except for the outward appearance of your body, you were, for all practical purposes, Chloe. However, we couldn't refer to both of you as Chloe and calling you Lana didn't seem right either. So we called the version of Chloe in your body Laura."  
  
Lana nodded. Calling the other version of her Laura did make a convoluted sort of sense. Then she thought about some of the other things Lex had said. She knew about Chloe's healing abilities and the enhanced reflexes, but didn't recall any discussions about a mind-link. "What mind-link?"  
  
"Oh, that's right, since Chloe never mentioned her ability to heal others before the events in the arena; she never mentioned the related mind-link thing either. Chloe and Laura could activate the passive 'bots in anyone like me, who they have healed, by just touching the person. Beyond just healing the person, they can also use the 'bots in the other person's brain to communicate directly mind-to-mind. But it is more than that, they can project an image into your brain and it feels absolutely real; I mean, many times over the past two weeks, Laura created a virtual version of my office back in the mansion and it was perfectly real. You could walk around, have a drink, play pool, anything and it felt completely real."  
  
Lana's eyes widened has what Lex was implying sank home. "Ahh, so I can do those things, too?"  
  
"You could do it when Chloe's mind was in control of your body, so you should be able to. I don't know if it takes practice or what." Since Lana didn't seem uncomfortable with the topic, Lex decided to try a small experiment and spoke to her with just his mind. 'Lana, can you hear me?'  
  
He thought she was going to launch off of the couch, she started so violently. Once she got over the surprise, she responded in kind. 'Lex, this is so cool.'  
  
'Yes, and it can be so much more.' Then Lex opened up his mind and in a few seconds passed along all of the events during Lana's missing two weeks including his relationship with Laura and how Laura had sacrificed herself to let Lana have her body back.  
  
Lana was a little bothered by his feelings for Laura at first, since there was a definite sense of more than just 'friends' involved. But Lex had never behaved in an inappropriate way with Laura and more importantly, he thought of Laura as a unique individual or more a variation of Lana than a variation of Chloe. Even though it was Chloe's memories and mind that was involved, Lana didn't get any impression Lex had developed romantic feelings for Chloe during the two weeks she had been 'gone'.  
  
Deciding they had done enough talking for the moment, Lana proceeded to do what she had been contemplating the whole time she had been lying there waiting for Lex to awake; she leaned forward and kissed him. When she had returned to her body back at the lab, she had been too disoriented to express her feelings to Lex. Then once the staggering discovery of the return of her parents had occurred, she had been too overwhelmed. And perhaps, she had to admit, too shy, for with the return of her parents she had felt almost like a little girl again. By the time they had made it from the university to Lex's apartment and everyone was temporarily talked out, she and Lex had fallen asleep on the couch only moments after showing their parents to guest bedrooms.  
  
But now while they had a few moments of privacy, Lana wanted to reestablish the connection she had felt for the past week with Lex, well, the last three weeks from Lex's perspective. It wasn't until the whole time-travel adventure to ancient Rome and a late night couch ride that they had realized the strong feelings they had for each other. Then it had been a single short week before her 'death' in the arena. And Lex hadn't even been there at the end. No, the last time she saw Lex before her death had been at Emperor Caligula's banquet at the Imperial Palace a few minutes before she and Chloe had been kidnapped and then forced to endure a long, painful night of torture at the hands of Venta, the Professor's ally in the Praetorian Guard, before ultimately being executed in the Roman arena. Vainly she had waited for Lex and Clark to rescue her as she was forced to watch Chloe's death by javelin and then watch the guards turn their attention to her.  
  
Lana shuddered in the middle of the kiss as the nightmare of her death once more played out in her mind. Lex could sense her emotions through the mind- link and tried to ease her through the experience. 'Lana, it is going to be okay. All of that is in the past, the very distant past. I am sure, if there is a next time, it will be easier with the 'bots now in your body. Hell, just imagine how much easier the past year with all of its meteor freaks would have been with a nanobot enhanced body.'  
  
Lana was amazed. With the mind-link they could even carry on a conversation in the middle of a passionate kiss. 'Shh, Lex. Just kiss me.' And then Lana discovered a kiss could be more than she ever imagined when emotions could be exchanged through the mind-link at the same time.  
  
---------------------------------  
  
Roger Nixon stared down into the Kent homestead from his prone position on the small hillock in the woods at the east edge of their property. His location was almost three blocks from the house and the barn, but the powerful zoom lens on the high-end camcorder he had 'borrowed' from the photo department at The Inquisitor clearly showed any activity on the small LCD screen.  
  
At three that morning Nixon had snuck onto their property and attached the device to the fuel tank on the bottom of the pickup. Then he had quickly retreated to his prepared position back here in the trees. As he sat there in the chilly pre-dawn night, he pondered once again why anyone would want to be a farmer with its need for such an early start to the day. By the time he detected movement down by the house, he was already on his third cup of coffee.  
  
Fortunately, he had been a reporter for a long time and knew from experience sometimes the best stories only came to light after a long, dreary stakeout. And this stakeout was turning out to be one of those kinds, although he fully expected it was going to have a more explosive finish then most since, for once, he was in control of the situation.  
  
All morning he had watched the barnyard for a sign of the Kent kid, but all he saw was the father making trips between the barn and an old tractor he was obviously repairing. Nixon's nerves were steadily getting worse the more time passed and they really started to jangle when just before lunch Jonathan Kent climbed into the old truck and drove off. Most likely Kent was just off on some errand, perhaps even to pick up his son. The device was well hidden; it was unlikely it would be found without putting the truck up on a hoist. And even if it was found, there was nothing about the device which could be traced back to him. Still, he had one of the longest, scariest forty-five minutes in his life until Kent drove back onto the farm and lifted a box out of the bed of the truck with the large red and white label from the local farm machinery dealer.  
  
After that bit of excitement the day again turned dull and tedious. The elder Kents came and went around the barnyard and by mid-afternoon the old tractor was chugging across the yard under its own power. Nixon was almost getting ready to concede the younger Kent was unfortunately gone for the weekend when the long black limo passed under the wooden 'Kent Farms' sign at the entrance to the drive.  
  
The limo ground to a halt halfway between the barn and the house. Without waiting for the chauffer to get out, the door at the back swung open and the long-awaited Clark Kent climbed out. Pausing, the younger Kent reached out his hand and helped a blonde girl out of the dark interior.  
  
Nixon zoomed the camcorder up to its maximum setting and recognized the girl as Chloe Sullivan, editor for Smallville High's student newspaper, 'The Torch'. Nixon had had several conversations with her about her meteor rock theories after he had come across her personal 'Wall of the Weird' addendum to the official school paper website. One of these conversations had even led to his discovery of the crop duster, Eddie Cole, and his story of the unexplained, mysterious object that had fallen to earth during the infamous meteor shower.  
  
Nixon watched as the girl ran up and hugged Mrs. Kent. He knew Clark did occasional articles for 'The Torch', but hadn't realized Chloe Sullivan and the boy were this close. A slight twist on his original idea started to germinate in the back of his head as he watched the two women head for the house while Clark turned to the barn. After only a couple of minutes the father and son exited the barn with the older man's arm draped parentally across the younger one's shoulder.  
  
As the two men disappeared into the house and the barnyard once more was silent, Nixon's eyes were again drawn to the small box resting in the grass beside him, a deceptively simple looking gray box with a cheap telescoping silver antenna and a solitary black button. But with one push of the button a massive explosion would result from the actions of its counterpart attached to the fuel tank of the pickup.  
  
Waiting for Clark to reappear from within the house, Nixon once more ran through the unlikely chain of events that had led him to this position. It had all started six months earlier when the Lex Luthor look-a-like had robbed the Smallville bank. He himself had only returned to Metropolis six weeks earlier after working on the Edge City Herald for five years. Six weeks at the Inquisitor and it had seemed like a 'Luthor' story would be the perfect way to cement his job or perhaps start a nest egg on the side instead. Either way it was a win-win situation, at least until he discovered the Luthors' version of hardball made everything he had come up against in Edge City seem like Little League. No, that wasn't really fair. The Luthors made Edge City seem not like Little League but more like Tee- ball.  
  
He hated the way he found himself groveling before Lex and begging Lex to take his money back and then letting Lex define the terms of their relationship, but eventually he found it was far more lucrative working for Lex then the mere $100,000 he had tried to extort. And agreeing to work for Lex had led to the Porsche and the unexplainable story of the bridge and Clark Kent.  
  
He spent much of his free time away from the Inquisitor over the next several months pursuing the investigation of the accident at the bridge. He had interviewed seemingly countless automotive, forensic, and computer simulation experts. Not that it was all hard work, as he had even managed ten days in Germany at Lex's expense to get Porsche's own structural engineers' stamp of approval on the simulation developed to explain the damage to the car.  
  
When he had presented the results of the simulation, everything had seemed so conclusive: the car had definitely hit the Kent boy mere inches before penetrating the guardrail and plunging into the river. However the scenario couldn't explain how the boy not only survived, but managed to pull Lex from the wreckage. At first, Lex had been enthused and had ordered him to do more digging into the Kents' background. But then only a couple of days later Lex did a 180 degree turn and ordered him to drop all investigations into the Kents, and it was not worded as a mere suggestion.  
  
For the next couple of months he had had almost no communications with Lex and the bright future of fame and easy money seemed to be fading. He had tried to patiently wait for the next opportunity when Lex would need a journalistic resource when one, Karen Castle, decided to play in his personal sandbox. Karen Castle, a rookie reporter barely out of college, made a casual remark about going to Smallville for a few days and then returned to fill a suddenly vacant corner office, the office he had secretly yearned for from his first day at the Inquisitor. The incident had been driven home two facts. First, Lex was one of the powers at The Inquisitor. Second, to get Lex's attention, you needed to be in his face in Smallville, not working in Metropolis regardless how much more important the stories seemed to be.  
  
Since the Kents were off-limits, and he knew better than to cross Lex in this regard without a really strong case, he needed to find some other reason to be hanging around Smallville. Googling 'Smallville' for ideas had led him to meteor rocks and then to Chloe Sullivan and finally to crop duster Eddie Cole before he had finally found something interesting enough to bring directly to Lex's attention. Unfortunately, on the surface Lex appeared to discount the entire 'crashed spaceship' story. This had really pissed him off when he discovered Lex had followed up the lead, but had turned the whole effort over to a Doctor Hamilton. It was really annoying the way Lex could just walk away with all of your hard work without even a thank you.  
  
He had almost been ready to give up and return to Metropolis when he had picked up rumors of Chloe Sullivan's apparent kidnapping. Like so many other things he had encountered here in Smallville, there had been no public announcements, no state-wide manhunts, just a few clues here and there. Ultimately, it came down to another stakeout and a well-placed bug at The Talon, where both Kent and Sullivan always seemed to hang out, that led to his following the kidnapper and the Lang girl to the shuttered carnival site. And that was when he had made his crowning discovery, the final showdown between Clark Kent and the kidnapper. Unfortunately, he had only been armed with his binoculars as he witnessed the kidnapper, who was later identified as one of Smallville's own deputies, fire three shots into Kent at point-blank range. Three shots that couldn't possibly have missed. Three shots that should have instantly dropped Kent to the ground. But Kent didn't go down, didn't even seem to flinch. No, he just calmly grabbed the kidnapper with one hand and tossed him twenty yards through the air.  
  
So, there he sat, knowing Clark Kent had been hit by a speeding car without being hurt, shot three times without being hurt, could throw a full grown man around like a rag doll, and he didn't have a shred of hard proof.  
  
After the events at the carnival, he had returned to researching Clark Kent, Lex's wishes be damned. If Lex was going to cut him out of the investigations into the crop duster's claims of seeing a ship crash during the meteor shower, he felt no longer constrained by Lex's request to leave the Kents alone.  
  
It hadn't taken much effort to discover the younger Kent had been adopted as a child mere weeks after the meteor shower, but then the trail had gone cold. The adoption agency involved no longer existed and from what he could find, only one adoption had ever even occurred through its auspices.  
  
He had tried going back to Chloe Sullivan to enlist her aid, but when she discovered his interest had changed from meteor rocks to Clark Kent, he had witnessed an instantaneous mood change. In fact, she had set a new record as the youngest female to ever tell him to 'Fuck off' as she threw him out of The Torch's office.  
  
Finally, he came back to the crux of the matter; if he was going to ever have a story to sell, he needed hard proof of Kent's unique abilities. He could hang around Smallville waiting for the right opportunity, but it might be months or years before he was at the right time and place. No, he was going to have to create the incident himself.  
  
Ten years earlier, during the Gulf War, his army reserve unit had been called up and spent the six months after the fighting was over, removing mine fields left behind by the Iraqis in Kuwait. He had learned a lot about explosives and remote triggering devices during that chaotic period of his life. And not all of the knowledge had faded away over the intervening years. No, between his memories and a little research on the Internet, the device had been surprisingly easy to put together.  
  
So, here he sat; his musings over the path leading to this juncture having conveniently filled the time until the door to the house once more swung open. Firing up the camcorder, he watched has Kent and Sullivan walked over to the pickup. Based on their arrival by limo, it was clear Kent was about to drive the girl home. He could wait for the boy's return before setting off the device, but he decided doing it now would result in more dramatic and conclusive footage. Perhaps if the girl hadn't told him to 'fuck off', he might have waited. But he had come to realize while he was planning the test, he would never be able to risk going public with this video as he couldn't explain how he had just happened to be present with a camcorder at the time of the explosion. No, the only recipient of this tape would have to be someone like a Luthor who wouldn't ask any indiscrete questions. Therefore the death of the girl would only reinforce the miraculous nature of Kent's survival.  
  
Reaching over, he picked up the triggering device. Once the kids were in the truck and he had the shot framed optimally in the viewfinder, he didn't hesitate in firmly pressing the button.  
  
------------------------------------  
  
It took two milliseconds for Clark's body to ramp all of the way up to its maximum 'speed' mode. If this explosion had happened before the events back in ancient Rome, he might not have been fast enough to do anything but ride out the explosion even with Chloe trapped in the cab with him. However events there required him to push his abilities up to a whole new level and now he took advantage of the order of magnitude increase in his 'speed' mode.  
  
As time seemed to grind to a halt, Clark opened the door, stepped out, crouched down, and lifted the side of the pickup to get at the fuel tank on the bottom. The exposed explosion had only reached one tenth of the way through the fuel tank and it was strange seeing flames frozen in place as though they were a mere painting rather than the real thing.  
  
Holding the truck aloft with one hand, Clark slid under and tore loose the four brackets holding the tank in place. Carefully keeping the flame and fuel contained within the burning tank, he shifted it until it was clear of the side of the truck. Then with a hard toss he hurled the tank away from the buildings in the direction of the pasture. Not wanting to start any fires on their property, Clark cranked up his heat vision to a higher level than he had attempted on any occasion since that out of control day in the Roman arena. At this extreme power level his heat vision didn't merely burn the fuel in the tank, but actually broke down the chemical bonds in the gasoline molecules converting it instantly back into its inert component atoms. Even the atomic structure of the tank itself was destroyed leaving just a cloud of atoms that dispersed in the gentle late afternoon breeze.  
  
Lowering the truck back to the ground, Clark stood and scanned the area with his x-ray vision. Since he hadn't even gotten the key into the ignition, it didn't seem like any action on his part had triggered the device. If it was triggered remotely, then someone was probably close by to know when to set it off. He had only completed one quarter of a rotation in his search when he spotted the human-shaped skeleton stretched out on the ground on a low rise in nearest corner of the woods beyond the house. Just to be sure there weren't more people involved, as he didn't want to leave Chloe or his parents at risk, Clark completed his 360 degree sweep before heading off towards the woods.  
  
Still in 'speed' mode, Clark raced out to the lone individual he had spotted in the woods. He found a man he didn't recognize laying prone on the ground with a camcorder in one hand and what was obviously the triggering device in the other. Such a small fraction of a second had passed since the start of the events; the man's thumb was still pressed against the button on top of the box.  
  
Clark quickly patted the man down until he located his wallet in his back pants pocket. Removing it, he rapidly scanned through the contents. The two most interesting items were the Kansas driver's license stating he was a 'Roger Nixon', age 38 of Metropolis; and the Metropolis Inquisitor press card. Great. All he needed was a reporter on his tail. And based on the prominent camcorder, a reporter who must have seen him use his abilities somewhere before and was now trying to collect some 'hard' evidence. Well, not today, thought Clark as he studied the camcorder with his x-ray vision. Locating the miniature cassette within the device, he burned two needle- fine holes through the plastic side of the case in a location well clear of the camera's electronics and then melted a significant portion of the tape on each of the reels. Mr. Roger Nixon was going to get an unhappy surprise when he tried to play back the tape.  
  
Deciding Nixon needed to have a little fear of god put into him before he was chased away; Clark sprawled on the ground next to him before dropping out of 'speed' mode.  
  
---------------------  
  
Nixon pressed the button on the box and thought he saw a brief flash of light, then nothing. No explosion, no ball of flame, no thunder-like roar. Nothing.  
  
He had just released his thumb to try stabbing the button again when he sensed the presence of someone next to him. He got the shock of his life when he realized the Kent kid, who had just a second before entered the truck, was stretched out on the ground next to him.  
  
"You know," said Clark in a calm conversational tone with a nod of his head towards the camcorder. "Now that the weather has turned warm, I think you would find Crater Lake a better location for voyeuristic activity. Several of the girls who like to go skinny-dipping there are pretty hot."  
  
Nixon's eyes swept back and forth between the vacant driver's seat of the pickup and the boy beside him. Finally, all he got out was a strangled, "How?"  
  
Clark reached over and clapped his hand down on Nixon's shoulder. Not hard enough to break anything, but with sufficient force to knock the camcorder and the detonating device out of his hands.  
  
"Roger, you owe me two hundred bucks."  
  
"How do you know my name?"  
  
Clark waved his free hand in front of him much like a magician does to show he has nothing up his sleeve. Then abruptly, Nixon's driver's license appeared as if by magic.  
  
"Roger Nixon, 13053 Devonshire Blvd, Apartment 6B, Metropolis. Roger, you seem to be a long way out of your territory." Then as magically as it had appeared, the driver's license disappeared from Clark's hand.  
  
As Nixon continued to stare at him in shock, Clark reached over and picked up the remote control device by the end of its antenna. "Now, I figure it is going to cost me two hundred to get a replacement fuel tank for the truck from Carney's Auto Salvage and then get it installed. So, you can either pay up, or we can take a stroll down the hill and show this little toy to my Dad. He isn't as calm about attempted murder as I am, so I expect he will fuck you up pretty bad before turning you over to the sheriff. And just for your information, the sheriff and my Dad go way back to when my Dad was a quarterback in high school and the sheriff was his favorite running back. I am sure you can imagine how 'good ole boys' here in the sticks look after their own."  
  
Nixon couldn't believe how badly his hand was shaking as he reached back to pull out his wallet. How had the kid stopped the explosion and then gotten up here in the blink of an eye? What has he?  
  
Carefully, Nixon opened his wallet, not at all surprised to find his driver's license in its accustomed spot. Generally, he paid his expenses by credit cards for the receipts, but he did typically carry a couple of hundred for those unexpected 'cash under the table' situations. Quietly, he pulled a hundred and five twenties out and handed them over.  
  
"Good man, I think you made the smart decision. Now let's gather up your possessions and I will escort you to your car. I would recommend you drive straight back to Metropolis, because if I ever see you in Smallville again after the next five minutes, well, remember the line from the 'Terminator' movie about the time machine and a retro-active abortion? I think that might be the most pleasant option for what could happen to you. Oh, by the way, I think I will hang on to the triggering device for the time being."  
  
Nixon stood there not moving, hardly breathing, as Clark handed him the camcorder, the blanket, and the igloo ice chest, which was now mostly empty.  
  
Clark started towards Nixon's car, but Nixon didn't move. After a couple of steps, Clark turned back and tugged on Nixon's arm to get him moving.  
  
"Come on, man. You need to focus and get going. You don't want to be here when my Dad comes looking."  
  
And to himself Clark added, the one Nixon really needed to be worried about was Chloe. She hated people messing with her. Truth be told if it came to it, Nixon would be better off running afoul of his father; he would merely bust up Nixon's body. But Chloe, whoa, she would mess with Nixon's head and he would probably end up in a straightjacket at some mental institute slowly banging his head against a padded wall.  
  
Clark shook his head. The scary part was his thoughts about Chloe were not that much of an exaggeration. From some of the stories she had told of her long existence, there were times when she had had little regard for human life. When you spent lifetime after lifetime outliving your friends and family, it eventually became difficult to care whether someone lived twenty years or seventy; either way they seemed to be gone in the blink of an eye. And it was even harder to care if they were a potential enemy, which you had to consider someone who tried to kill you.  
  
Of course, Clark chided himself; he was hardly one to talk. During the events at the Praetorian Camp and again in the Roman arena, he had let his fears for the girls' safety get control of him and how many unintended deaths had resulted from his actions? Ten? A hundred? A thousand?  
  
But his thoughts drifted back to Chloe and some of the abilities she had acquired through her nanobot enhancements. Messing up Nixon's mind would definitely be child's play to her. From what she had said, she could make anyone she had 'saved' . . . oh, be truthful with yourself, Clark, the Borg term 'assimilated' was really more accurate . . . she could make anyone she had 'assimilated' see, hear, even believe anything she wanted them to. If she decided Nixon needed to spend some time in Hell for what he had attempted, she could truly make him believe he was in Hell.  
  
Roger was just beginning to comprehend the consequences of what he had done or tried to do. If word of it got out, he would surely end up in jail. What had he been thinking to try a stunt that would look like attempted murder to anyone who didn't believe in Kent's secret abilities? And throwing in the girl, it really had been attempted murder. Why had he done it? And the bigger question, why was the kid letting him walk away? For all of his bravado, did the kid have just as much to lose if the cops got involved?  
  
Nixon's car was in sight when his pace began to falter. Finally, twenty feet short of the car he ground to a halt. As Clark turned to grab his arm to get him moving again, Nixon spoke up sounding more forceful and in control of himself than at any time since Clark had appeared beside him on the small rise in the woods.  
  
"Why are you letting me go?"  
  
Clark looked at him for a minute. Then in a tone that said it was the truth, "I have better things to do with my time then spend it in courtrooms. You got lucky this time and no one was hurt. But you are not going to get a second chance with me. If I ever see you in Smallville, well," and Clark snapped his fingers and instantly disappeared and reappeared on Nixon's far side. "I will put you down so hard and so fast you will never know what happened."  
  
Clark paused a moment to let what Nixon had just experienced sink in. "Now, get out of here."  
  
Nixon's throat had gone so dry it felt impossible to swallow and his heart was once more pounding so hard he thought he was going to have a heart attack. Whatever Clark Kent was, his abilities went way beyond anything Nixon had been expecting. At the moment, he was just glad to be getting out of there in one piece and he thought, perhaps I will still have something useful on the videotape which Kent seemed to have overlooked.  
  
Getting in his car, it took several tries before he got the key in the ignition. Once the engine roared to life, Nixon headed down the small country lane where he had stashed his car and then he turned right onto the paved county road and headed in the direction of Metropolis.  
  
------------------------  
  
After Nixon had rounded the first bend in the road, Clark turned and dashed back to the farmyard where he had left Chloe and his parents. By the time he got there he found Chloe out of the truck talking with his parents.  
  
"Clark, what happened? One second you were there and the next you were gone."  
  
"Someone rigged a bomb on the fuel tank of the pickup. It had started to explode before I saw it. After I neutralized it, I spotted the guy who set it off hiding in the woods. So I went and had a little chat with him. Have you ever heard of a Roger Nixon with the Metropolis Inquisitor? Oh, Dad, here is some money for a new gas tank for the truck."  
  
Chloe nodded. "Yeah, Clark, he talked to me about the meteor rocks and my wall, umm, when was it? I guess it would have been several of weeks ago. Boy, when you have spent a lot of time around time machines, exactly how to describe when things happened in a consistent frame of reference gets crazy. Anyway, right after Deputy Watt kidnapped and buried me, Nixon showed up. Only this time he was asking about you instead of the meteor rocks. This was before I knew your secret, but still I told him none too politely to fuck off."  
  
"Hmmm, he must have seen me do something while rescuing you or Lana from the deputy. But he must not have gotten any proof which is why he was out here today with a camcorder. Perhaps you shouldn't have spoken to him in that manner or he might have waited until I was alone before setting off his bomb."  
  
"Ahh, son," began Jonathan. "Where exactly did this money come from?"  
  
Clark grinned. "Since this Nixon guy caused the damage to the truck, it seemed only fair for him to pay for the repairs."  
  
"So you stole this money from him?" asked his father with an expression saying he didn't, under any circumstances, abide by dishonest behavior.  
  
"No, in the middle of putting the fear of god into him, I gave him the simple choice of handing over the money or else I would bring him down here to feel the wrath of my father for trying to kill his only son and the son's girlfriend."  
  
"Clark," asked Martha. "Exactly how did you put the fear of god into this man?"  
  
"Oh, I just used a little magic on him."  
  
"What kind of magic?"  
  
"A little sleight of hand," Clark responded. Then going into the same routine of displaying his hands to show they were empty, abruptly his Dad's driver's license was in his grasp. In a couple of seconds, it disappeared as magically as it had appeared.  
  
"Clark," started his Mom with a slight edge to her voice. "You know better than to use your gifts in front of strangers; even if it only looks like magic."  
  
Clark's face was turning the slightest shade more pink as he contemplated what her response would be if she knew about his final act of intimidation, instantly moving from one side of Nixon to the other.  
  
Suddenly Chloe chimed in. "Your Mom's right. This isn't ancient Rome. Don't let your time there as a God go to your head."  
  
"God?" asked Martha and Jonathan with one voice.  
  
After a glance at each other, Martha continued. "Maybe you better go into a little more detail about what happened during your little adventure."  
  
End of Chapter 1 


	2. Biological Families Chapter 2

Biological Families  
  
Author: duane at duaneaakre dot com  
  
Disclaimer: As always I own nothing. Well I own a house, two cars, a pair of jetskis, and a lot of other junk, but none of these characters.  
  
Story Rating: R [The story may drift into the HBO range rather than stay in the WB range, so to be on the safe side, I am rating this R.]  
  
Chapter 2  
  
Lana climbed out of Lex's baby blue '65 Mustang in front of Smallville High exactly forty five minutes before first bell, well before the rush of students would descend for the penultimate Monday of the school year. This was the compromise they had reached before she would allow him to drive her to school. No flashy car, although Lex had drawn the line at borrowing the housekeeper's Taurus. His classic Mustang would almost blend in with the cars some of the students drove and it was not a car he had used around Smallville much. With his newly restored hair and atypical car, if they avoided the peak arrival time, Lex Luthor's chauffeuring of Lana to school might go unnoticed.  
  
They were still undecided on several important matters like if and when they were going to go public with their relationship or how to announce the remarkable return of their parents. For the moment, their parents were staying at the Luthor mansion with them on the outskirts of town. Fortunately, Lex had brought most of his staff from Metropolis so none of them had known Lana's parents and all of them had joined the Luthors in the nine years since Lillian's death. They couldn't hide them there indefinitely, but a few days or a week shouldn't be too difficult.  
  
Lana closed the car door and leaned back in through the open window. "Thanks for the ride, Lex." It felt strange to say it in a public place from her old pre-Lex life, but she quietly added, "I love you."  
  
She secretly wished he would lean over and give her a kiss good-bye, but knew it would be pushing their luck. If she was seen kissing someone who was not Whitney, it would be all over the school before the end of second period. So she had to settle for a warm smile unlike anything he would have shown before their 'Roman' adventure.  
  
"See, my driving you to school turned out okay. Call me at lunch. Luv you, back."  
  
Then after leaving a five foot strip of rubber, Lex shot out of the student parking lot. Lana shook her head, so much for keeping a low profile.  
  
Turning around to face the entrance to the school, she realized no one was paying attention to her or to Lex's departure; loud, souped-up muscle cars were just a part of high school life in semi-rural Kansas. Not seeing anyone she knew well, Lana started to walk towards the building. She might as well go hang out in The Torch's office until closer to the start of her first class, perhaps Clark or Chloe would be there. She wasn't quite ready to admit to herself this was just a tactic to avoid running into Whitney. Since he was a senior and she was just a sophomore, they didn't share any classes. Seeing him at lunch was almost inevitable, but lunch was a good four hours away. Hopefully, by then she would have figured out a way to tell him she wouldn't be going to the dance with him, or anyone else for that matter, as she certainly couldn't go to the school dance with Lex.  
  
Walking down the main hallway past the principal's office and the large trophy case, she couldn't suppress the feeling the things at Smallville High which had always seemed so important now were childishly trivial. How could a pep rally or a local high school football game or a school dance compare to the things she had experienced in the past few days: chariot races in the Circus Maximus and dining with the Emperor of Rome?  
  
And that didn't even address her new, improved body with its almost comic book superhero abilities. Saturday afternoon back in Lex's apartment in Metropolis she had finally had to do the equivalent of 'pinching herself' to convince herself it all was real. In Lex's bathroom she had found a razor in one of the drawers and had used it to make the smallest of cuts in her left index finger. As she expected, after wiping the single drop of blood away, there wasn't the slightest mark on her finger. What had surprised her was the complete lack of pain, only a faint sense of tingling which was gone before it had barely registered. She had been tempted to make a deeper incision, but convinced herself it wasn't necessary and would fall into the category of showing off, even if it was just to herself.  
  
While having a body that could instantly heal was incredible, it didn't have much impact on your day-to-day life, even here at 'meteor freak central'. No, surprisingly it was other aspects of having a nanobot enhanced body that had an impact on her daily life; things she had never fully grasped when Chloe had first admitted to her true past.  
  
Last night she had stopped over at Chloe's house like Chloe had requested before they had gone their separate ways late Friday night in Metropolis. When she entered the house, Chloe had told her Dad they had some 'girl- talk' to do and had led Lana upstairs to her bedroom.  
  
Once they were seated on the bed, Chloe reached over and clasped her hand. Instantly, a mind-link formed between them that went way beyond anything she had yet experienced with Lex. Lex had almost no control over the nanobots in his body and was further limited by their being active only when one of the girls was touching him. What little ability he thought he had to initiate a mind-link with Lana had really been Lana's 'bots working under her subconscious control. And since Lana was experiencing some aspects of her new 'gifts' for the first time she hadn't really understood her true abilities.  
  
However Chloe had spent thousands of years honing her abilities and as they sat on the bed she passed on her vast store of knowledge, not only about the full capabilities of a nanobot enhanced body, but also all of the mundane knowledge of history, science, and the arts she had acquired down through the millennia. Unlike the nearly disastrous results back in the arena, this time Chloe had been fully prepared. The data she passed on didn't include her personal experiences and was careful added to Lana's nanobot memory rather than directly into her brain.  
  
Within seconds it seemed to Lana as though all the knowledge that had ever existed was at her fingertips. Facts, figures, dates, and places. Several times since she had gotten to know Chloe she wondered about her secret to getting good grades without appearing to ever crack a book as she seemed to spend every waking minute going after 'the story'; whether it was the latest meteor freak, or some foible by the school administration. Now, she knew. She knew she too could walk into any classroom, high school or college level, and answer any question, pass any test. And it wasn't just book knowledge Chloe passed along, but also the gift of languages. Suddenly, Lana simply knew she could understand and speak hundreds of languages, not just obvious ones like French, German, Spanish, Chinese (five dialects), and Russian, but also long dead ones like Aramaic, Phoenician, Sumerian, and others she had never heard of. At first she didn't understand why Chloe had included all of the long dead languages, but as the question passed through her mind, Chloe's answer was immediately there: first, after one encounter with a time machine, who knew when a dead language might be needed, and second, with effectively unlimited storage capability, why not?  
  
As Lana mused about her experiences with Chloe during the previous evening, she rounded a corner in the school and ran into Alison Bronson. Hard.  
  
Still lost in her thoughts about her new found language skills, she reached out to keep Allison from falling and without thinking addressed her in French. "I am so sorry, I was lost in my thoughts and wasn't watching were I was going."  
  
Allison, a senior, had been the head football cheerleader when Lana had quit the squad. She was also the president of the French club and Lana guessed that was why she had addressed her in that language.  
  
Allison stared at her in surprise. They hadn't spoken much since Lana had left the team, but Allison knew Lana had been taking Spanish, not French, as one of her electives. Responding to her in kind, Allison said. "Your French is very good. When did you start studying and why aren't you in the French Club?"  
  
Lana shrugged. For an instant, a quote by Marcus Fabius Quintilianus flashed through her head, 'A lair should have a good memory'. Well, she had the good memory, but she was going to have to be careful or she would soon start talking like Lex or Lionel!  
  
"Oh, I have been studying during the occasional quiet times at The Talon. I have been thinking it might be fun after high school to go to Paris for awhile, maybe try to get into an art school over there." Why had those words just popped into her head, and why did they feel so 'right'? "As far as the French Club, not joining comes back to The Talon, too. There is just never enough free time."  
  
Allison thought her French was good, but some of Lana's words had flowed out so fast and smooth she could barely follow. "Lana, you have to at least come to our final 'end of school' get together Wednesday night at the Bistro."  
  
Lana had been tempted to make some churlish remark about how the cheerleaders had always avoided The Talon and now the French Club was having its get-together at the Bistro, but the corridor was starting to fill with other students. If she was going to postpone her encounter with Whitney for a few more hours, she needed to make her escape from Allison now.  
  
Smiling, she answered. "I'll try. Now, if you will excuse me, I need to talk to Chloe Sullivan before class starts."  
  
Hurrying down the hall, Lana just reached the door to The Torch as she saw several members of the football team enter the corridor at the far end. She wasn't sure if Whitney was among them, but let out a sigh of relief as she ducked through the door.  
  
Pushing the door shut behind her, she turned to find Clark stretched out on the coach with Chloe in his arms. She looked at them for a moment before making her presence official, not that either of them didn't know she was there based on their unique 'gifts'. Still, somehow, being back in Smallville made watching Clark and Chloe make out seem wrong even though in Roman the four of them had ended up naked together at the baths on more than one occasion.  
  
"Hey, guys. Sorry to interrupt."  
  
After a couple of seconds Clark and Chloe broke their kiss. Chloe disentangled herself and got to her feet. Clark quickly followed suit and ended up standing behind Chloe with his arms around her waist and his chin resting on top of her head.  
  
"Hi, Lana, how are things at the Luthor mansion?" asked Clark.  
  
Lana cast a quick glance around as though she expected the walls to have grown ears. "Shush, we haven't decided how we are going to handle announcing our relationship and I don't want rumors to start floating around school."  
  
"I was talking about your parents."  
  
"Oh, sorry. Well, actually, we haven't decided about that yet either, so we probably shouldn't be talking about it here."  
  
"I was just wondering how they were adjusting."  
  
"Oh, I don't know about Mom, yet, but Dad is hooked on X-box. I swear he has done nothing but play it since we got back yesterday afternoon. I guess it is a huge step up from the Atari and Ms. Pac man in his old life."  
  
"Are they okay with your relationship with 'he who shall not be named'?" asked Clark with a grin at the thought of equating Lex with Voldemort from the Harry Potter books.  
  
Lana flashed him a nasty look to let him know she caught the reference, but transformed it into a big grin to indicate she knew he wasn't serious. "They seem to be handling it okay. I think they are still trying to adjust to the whole concept where I am no longer three years old. Sixteen is such a big step from three; they have to think of me as an adult. So the difference in our ages probably doesn't seem as big as if they had seen me grow up all of these years."  
  
Chloe shook her head a little. "If people are bothered by the age difference between twenty two and sixteen, wait until he is fifty and you still look sixteen."  
  
Lana couldn't help but frown. The topic hadn't really come up since she had awoken in Physics Lab, but it had been in the back of her mind.  
  
"What is it like going through that? The increasing age difference I mean."  
  
Chloe interlaced her fingers in Clark's and squeezed. "It depends on the individual. Once in a great while, it turns out okay and the guy can overlook it and see the real you. But, truthfully, most of the time, you end up just a constant reminder of their own approaching mortality and it eventually rips the relationship apart."  
  
"I thought you said we would probably achieve the level of nanobot technology required to stop the aging process in roughly thirty years," commented Clark.  
  
"Yeah, but by then Le - ahh, 'Voldemort', will be fifty," stated Chloe.  
  
Just as Chloe finished speaking, the door opened.  
  
"What's this about Voldemort?" asked Whitney Fordman, as he entered the room. With a quick glance he took in the three occupants of the room and was pleasantly surprised with the way Kent's arms were wrapped around Chloe Sullivan. He and Kent had had a number of highs and lows in their relationship over the past year. Most of the lows revolved around Kent's sniffing around Lana. But there had been several highs like Kent saving him when his pickup went fireball and again when Kent helped him get clear of the ex-jocks who were into the meteor rock tattoos. And most importantly, based on what he learned later from Lana, how Clark had gotten Lex to bring the Metropolis Sharks pro football team to Smallville so he could have a chance to play with them for his father. That was an incredible gift from someone who sometimes seemed to be trying to steal his girlfriend. Clark was ultimately a good guy and if he had hooked up with Chloe, Whitney couldn't be happier for him.  
  
"Hey, Whitney," said Lana with what seemed to Whitney to be a false cheeriness in her voice. And he couldn't help but notice she made no move to step closer to him. "Turns out Clark and Chloe are two more closet Harry Potter fans."  
  
"Yeah," said Clark and his cheeriness seemed genuine. "I sure wish Rowling would hurry up and get the fifth book out already. I am dying to see what happens during Harry's fifth year. I know there are going to be at least seven books so the big confrontation with Voldemort won't come in the next book, but now that 'you know who' has his real body back, it should ramp things up a notch."  
  
Whitney enjoyed the Harry Potter books even though they were meant for younger readers, but Harry Potter was not very high on his list of priorities today.  
  
"Lana, where have you been? I have been trying to reach you since Friday night. At first, Nelly said you were just going to be very late because of some concert. Then she said you were spending the weekend in Metropolis."  
  
So much for putting things off, thought Lana. "There are some things we need to talk about, Whitney. Walk me to class and we'll talk."  
  
Turning towards the others, she continued. "Clark, Chloe, I'll see you later."  
  
As he watched them leave the office, Clark didn't envy Lana's situation. It must be difficult to break up after having been with someone for years. Not that there hadn't been times in the past year when he hadn't fantasize about Lana having the conversation only with him being the reason. Still, he was glad it wasn't him and hoped he never had this particular conversation with Chloe.  
  
Stepping out into the hall, all of her options for handling this conversation once more raced through her head:  
  
Option A. Break up with no explanation. While that would certainly simplify things in the long run for her, it was hardly fair to Whitney. They had spent three years together and he deserved more than a sudden, unexpected 'Take a hike, buster,' comment.  
  
Option B. Tell him there was someone else, but not specify who. How could she convince Whitney that everything between them had been mostly okay on Friday, but between then and now she had met someone else and fallen in love? If he didn't insist on the truth, he would end up snooping around and would probably find out at least part of it anyway.  
  
Option C. Tell him the truth. But how much? Just about Lex, or the whole time machine story? And what about her nanobots or the return of her parents? Where could she, should she, draw the line?  
  
As these thoughts swirled around in her head, Whitney unexpectedly provided option D.  
  
"Lana, I had planned to take you to a picnic out at Crater Lake yesterday to show you this, but I guess you better see it now." Whitney pulled an envelope out of his pocket, withdrew a sheet of paper, and handed it to her.  
  
Lana glanced down at the page for a second, stopped walking, and looked back up into Whitney's eyes. "The Marines? You joined the Marines and have to report to Camp Pendleton next week?"  
  
Whitney didn't seem to notice that in less than a second Lana had absorbed the entire contents of the document. "Yeah, unfortunately, I have to leave Saturday night to be there on time. I am afraid we are going to miss the dance."  
  
"Whitney, forget about the dance. What about finishing school?"  
  
"I will only be missing the final three days. I have talked to the guidance office and the principal's office, they will let me get my diploma under the circumstances; I'll just be missing the graduation ceremony."  
  
"It seems like you have put a lot of planning into this. Why didn't you tell me?"  
  
Whitney stared down the corridor for a second and noticed how it was emptying out as students made their way into their first period classes. "I thought you would try to talk me out of it. And ever since I found my Dad's medals from Vietnam, well, I have just known I had to do this."  
  
Lana slowly shook her head. "Joining the Marines to honor your father's memory doesn't seem like a good enough reason for such a life altering decision."  
  
Whitney took her hands in his and made her look into his eyes. "That's only a small part of it. I need to get out of Smallville and find my destiny. Originally, I thought the football scholarship would be the way. But after that fell through and then with September 11th, it seemed like joining the Marines and doing something for my country was the right thing to do." He gave a small smile. "Perhaps after my enlistment is up, I'll go to college under the G.I. Bill."  
  
Just then the first period bell started ringing. Whitney leaned in, gave her a quick peck on the lips, and turned to run to his first class. Over his shoulder he shouted, "I'll talk to you at lunch."  
  
Lana was almost in a daze as she walked into her class. This was something she had never seen coming.  
  
---------------------------  
  
Wednesday morning had dawned bright and early. It was unusual for Lex to be up and going so early, but today he had arrived at the plant while it had still been dark. This unusual occurrence had been the result of a phone call from his father Tuesday morning after his return from Europe. Lionel had said he had a big announcement to make and wanted the entire staff of Fertilizer Plant Number Three assembled at 9 A.M. Wednesday morning when he would be flying in from Metropolis. He wouldn't explain what the announcement would be, but since the plant had shown a profit for the first time in over two years, Lex assumed it would be a well-deserved 'pat on the back' for the entire team.  
  
It had been a frantic twenty four hours getting a viewing stand erected on the south side of the administration building, getting refreshments catered for twenty five hundred people, and making sure the appropriate media coverage from both Smallville and Metropolis would be on hand. But with thirty minutes to spare, everything had been in place.  
  
Now Lex stood and watched as his father's helicopter landed on the west side of the building. Before the large blades had even ground to a halt, Lionel Luthor was out and headed in Lex's direction. As he watched his father's approach, Lex wondered when would be the appropriate time to bring up Lillian. Perhaps after the celebration he would have his father come up to the mansion. He could hardly wait to see the shocked look on his face.  
  
Speaking loudly to be heard over the whine of the jet turbines spooling down, Lionel said, "Beautiful day, isn't it?"  
  
Lex glanced up at the sky, mostly blue, but with a fringe of gray clouds on the western horizon. However, it wasn't the sky that backed up the forecast he had seen, as much as the humidity, a clammy wetness only found in Kansas in the summer. "So far, but they're calling for storms later."  
  
"Well, you know the heartland; some things can change in a minute."  
  
Lex nodded, but suddenly felt a strange pang in his gut at his father's comment. Lionel never said anything without an ulterior motive. Whatever his father was about to announce, it would not be the expected 'pat on the back' and Lex wondered what new disaster his father was about to thrust upon him.  
  
But there was nothing for it at the moment, but to ride it out. So gesturing forward, Lex led his father around the side of the building to the outdoor platform and the waiting crowd.  
  
As they began to climb the flight of stairs, Lionel asked, "Is everyone assembled?"  
  
"Twenty four hours isn't a lot of notice. Do you plan on giving me a 'heads up' as to the nature of your remarks?"  
  
"Just one of my customary motivational speeches you've hear hundreds of times."  
  
Awaiting them on top of the platform were the six senior managers of the plant. Lionel walked down the line shaking their hands finally reaching Gabe Sullivan, the plant manager.  
  
"How are you, Gabe? And your daughter?"  
  
"Very well, sir. Thanks for asking."  
  
As the managers took their seats, Lex and Lionel turned towards the podium. Before they were in range of the microphone, Lex made a final attempt to deflect his father from whatever malicious action he already foresaw based on the glint in his father's eye.  
  
"Dad, the plant made a profit this quarter for the first time in two years. My people are expecting a pat on the back and they deserve it."  
  
"I'll try not to disappoint them," was Lionel's response followed by a big grin.  
  
Shit, thought Lex. The last time I saw that expression on his face was when we fucked Sir Harry out of his company. What is he about to do?  
  
As Lionel stepped up to the podium, the assembled workers burst forth with a round of applause. Raising his arms, Lionel basked in the feeling of power the cheering crowd brought. For just a moment, he considered announcing bonuses for the entire staff just to heighten the feeling. But quickly it passed, as he remembered the line from The Merchant of Venice, 'To do a great right, do a little wrong'. What he was about to do might be perceived as wrong in the short term, but it was necessary, if Lex was to grow into the man he would need to be to do great things.  
  
Gesturing for quiet, Lionel began. "Thank you. Thank you."  
  
After pausing for a moment to let the crowd calm down so they wouldn't miss his next remarks, he continued. "As most of you know, you've all worked extremely hard this past year and you should all be proud of yourselves."  
  
The workers broke out with renewed cheering. After thirty seconds, Lionel once more motioned for silence.  
  
"Just as a ship can only follow the course set by its captain, any business is only as good as its leadership."  
  
Fuck, thought Lex. Whatever he is about to do, it is going to be blamed on me.  
  
"Due to management failures beyond your control, this plant will be closing, effective immediately."  
  
For a moment, there was stunned silence. Then mumblings and grumblings started spreading through the crowd. Quickly, the noise escalated into full-scale booing and jeering.  
  
"Good luck to all of you," were Lionel's final words before stepping back from the microphone.  
  
As Lionel turned towards Lex, one thought flashed through Lex's mind. Back in Rome, Chloe had explained how she could impose any image she chose into the mind of someone who had been infiltrated with her nanobots. Any image and it would seem perfectly real. At this moment, Lex wished he had that ability over his father as he knew exactly what image he would use. He would send his father directly to Dante's eight level of hell; where horned demons using whips and lances would forever force the tormented to wade through searing, knee-deep molten lava. At each step the leg would be burned away, only to be restored before the next agonizing step.  
  
How could his father just take away the livelihoods of twenty five hundred people and probably destroy the whole economy of Smallville? And for what? Just as some ploy to get Lex to return to Metropolis? The threat alone would have been sufficient to get him to act as his father wished.  
  
Lex forced himself to stay calm; letting his anger loose at this moment wouldn't do his employees any good. No, a threat to his employees might have gotten the reaction Lionel desired, but actually terminating them was going to get a very different result than what he was expecting. Back before she had gotten sick, Lillian could easily keep these 'over the top' stunts by his father in check. Now that she was back, perhaps she would be willing to once more put the fear of god into Lionel.  
  
"Stupid, fucking move, Dad. Even you know a threat is more effective than the actual deed. Once the deed is done, you have lost all of your leverage. If you were trying to force me back to Metropolis, this was not the right approach. Now, let's go up to the mansion and discuss this."  
  
Lionel was a little surprised at this show of backbone by Lex. He had expected whining about the impact on lives of the employees and that Lex was unfairly getting the blame. He knew the threat alone would have gotten Lex back to Metropolis, but it wouldn't have hardened Lex's psyche as he needed.  
  
"Lex, this is about more than just your returning to Metropolis. However, we can discuss that later. I expect you to be in your new office next Monday."  
  
Lex shook his head. "No, father. A lot of things have happened in the past few days while you were on your little buying spree in Europe, things that will affect the future of LuthorCorp. Now, you WILL be at the mansion promptly at four this afternoon. Or I would put the odds at ninety-five percent you will lose control of your company before close of business on Friday and someone else will be sitting at YOUR desk next Monday. I expect you at four o'clock, sharp!"  
  
Then Lex strode away to talk with his managers, leaving Lionel to stare at his back.  
  
----------------------------------  
  
Martha and Jonathan were sitting at the kitchen table reading the special edition of the Smallville Ledger with the banner headline about the closing of the LuthorCorp plant when Clark arrived home from school with Chloe in tow.  
  
"Hi, Mom, Dad," began Clark as he read the headline over his Dad's shoulder. "So, you've heard the news."  
  
"Yeah," said Martha. "News like this travels fast. I had calls from three neighbors within thirty minutes of the announcement. How were things at school?"  
  
"They could just as well have cancelled classes after ten o'clock, nothing useful was being accomplished," answered Chloe.  
  
"How are you and your Dad handling this? It must have been a shock."  
  
"I talked to Dad briefly at lunch and he was pretty shook up. The plant had shown a profit this quarter. He and Lex thought they had finally turned the corner, now this."  
  
Jonathan looked up with a faintly surprised expression on his face. "From Lionel Luthor's remarks in the paper, it sure sounded like the plant was in financial trouble."  
  
Chloe shook her head. "Not according to what my Dad says. I am going to swing by Lex's place a little later and find out what is really going on. I have things that need my attention here in Smallville in the near future. I don't have time to have my Dad being forced to take a new job somewhere else. If this is just some stupid game between Lex and his father, well, I am going to force them to find a solution which doesn't involve closing the plant. I think by now Lex knows better than to piss me off, but maybe it is time to teach Lionel his place in the new order of things."  
  
Martha just stared at Chloe. The strength and power in her tone were unlike anything she had heard from Chloe before. For a moment she didn't seem like the sixteen year old girl who hung around with Clark and Pete. No, her voice sounded like someone who was used to issuing orders and who expected them to be obeyed without question.  
  
But, regardless of her adventures with the time machine and her time at Metropolis University, she was still just a teenage girl.  
  
"Chloe," said Martha in a tone intended to calm her down. "Perhaps you should let your Dad and Lex handle this."  
  
For a moment Chloe turned such a hard stare on her, Martha actually felt herself flinch back in her seat. Then Chloe realized what she had done and forced a small smile onto her face.  
  
"Sorry. I have spent a long time trying to accomplish my goals by working behind the scenes. But our time in Rome reawakened memories of how it is sometimes easier and faster to lead from the front rather than staying hidden in the shadows."  
  
Chloe could see neither Martha nor Jonathan had any idea what she was talking about. After pulling out a chair, she sat down and motioned for Clark to grab another chair.  
  
"I am not who, or what, you think. I know Clark has always shared all of his 'secrets' with you and it has been hard on him to be forced to keep my secrets from you. Since you have done such a good job of keeping his secret, I mean even I didn't have a clue, I think it is time to trust you with part of my secrets, too."  
  
Martha and Jonathan shared a glance that started as 'What the hell?', but segued into 'This is Smallville, expect the unexpected'.  
  
Chloe began with a grin. "I am a little older than I look."  
  
"How much older?" asked Jonathan. With all the strange 'meteor freak' events of the past year, he suddenly realized he wouldn't be shocked if Chloe suddenly announced she was thirty five or forty. Hell, Chloe might be as old as he or Martha, even if she didn't look a day over sixteen.  
  
"Well, it is complicated. I was born seventeen thousand three hundred sixteen years ago, but I have lived through the past one thousand nine hundred sixty five years twice. So from my personal perspective, I have been alive for nineteen thousand two hundred eighty one years."  
  
"Nineteen thousand," whispered Martha.  
  
"Yeah, nineteen thousand. Sometimes number of years boggles my mind and I lived through every one of them. Anyway I am the only survivor of a long forgotten civilization from before the last ice age. Just before its collapse, I was injected with experimental nanobots which keep me from aging and heal any injuries.  
  
"I was forced to reveal my secret to Clark and the others when we ran into someone in ancient Rome who knew me," continued Chloe.  
  
At this point Clark jumped into the conversation, glad to be able to tell his parents the truth. "We had been back there for less than twenty four hours and had been in our first Roman town for less than an hour when this guy walks up, hugs Chloe, and starts this long conversation in Latin. At the time neither Lana nor I spoke any Latin, but it was obvious this guy knew Chloe. It wasn't until later we found out he was her brother-in-law."  
  
"Brother-in-law?" echoed Martha as she tried to absorb what Clark and Chloe were saying.  
  
"Yes," nodded Chloe. She found herself staring down at her hands on the tabletop and forced her eyes up to meet Martha's. "I am not the sweet little sixteen year old I try to project here in Smallville. I have lived life. I have been married many times down through the centuries and have had many, many children. This is part of me and something Clark is still learning to deal with. I hope you can learn to accept me, too."  
  
Martha nodded numbly, but it was obviously an automatic response.  
  
Chloe knew it would take time for what she had said to sink in, but felt is was best to get the rest of it out into the open now, too. "There are other things you need to know so you can understand what is going on. I may be playing the school girl now and I have done it many times before. I have also been the contented housewife a number of times also. But nineteen thousand years is a very long time. I have been many other things too.  
  
"Jonathan, I have been around here enough to know your feelings towards Lionel; that he is a mad for power and will step on anyone who gets in his way."  
  
At this comment, Jonathan couldn't help but nodded in agreement.  
  
Chloe looked him straight in the eye. "Unfortunately, compared to me, Lionel is a rank amateur. There have been times I have ruled vast empires with an iron fist, empires where I could execute anyone, from the lowest peasant to the highest nobleman, at my slightest whim; something Lionel can't even dream of."  
  
Chloe leaned back in her chair. "Mostly, I have grown past the need to have tens of thousands of people shouting my name in adoration. These days I try to work behind the scenes to accomplish what I want, however if Lionel needs to be put into his place, I am perfectly willing and capable of cutting him down to size.  
  
"But we'll see after I talk to Lex. It may be simplest to set up a dummy corporation and buy the plant from LuthorCorp, which might, as a side benefit, get Lionel out of our hair, permanently."  
  
"Buy the plant?" asked Martha.  
  
Clark looked at Chloe and raised an eyebrow. Chloe shrugged in return.  
  
"Mom, Dad. If you added together the wealth of Bill Gates, Warren Buffet, and Lionel Luthor, it would only be a small fraction of Chloe's wealth. The richest person in the world is sitting across the table from you."  
  
Both Martha and Jonathan's eyes widen at this remark. Someone who had lived for thousands and thousands of years was beyond comprehension, but 'the richest person in the world' was more understandable.  
  
Chloe reddened just a little. "Well, you know how it is. A girl stashes away a little here and a little there and over thousands of years, it starts to add up."  
  
Clark grinned. "All that money and you still drive that old battered Corvair. If I had all your money, I think I would have a garage like Lex's."  
  
"Hey, don't go saying mean things about my convertible. It's a classic. And it doesn't go flying off bridges like some Porsches we know. Or catch fire and blow up like a certain old red pickup I could mention."  
  
"Okay, okay. Your car is fine. But still, I could picture you upgrading to a VW Beetle convertible. Hmm, maybe bright yellow to match your hair."  
  
Chloe winked at Clark. "I'll think about it."  
  
"So," began Jonathan trying to turn the conversation back onto the topic of the day. "You are just going to step in and take over the plant to save the town?"  
  
Chloe dragged her thoughts away from a pleasant summer drive in a shiny yellow convertible out to Crater Lake with Clark for a little skinny- dipping session like that long ago first day back in ancient Rome. Only this time it wouldn't just be her getting all naked.  
  
"Only if I can't get Lex and Lionel to find a solution to my satisfaction. And even if I do buy the plant, someone else will be the front man, maybe Lex, if he is interested. Hmm, LexCorp has a nicer ring than LuthorCorp. Anyway, I have more important things to do than manage some minor fertilizer plant."  
  
"Chloe, you mentioned these important plans several times now. What exactly are you talking about?" asked Martha.  
  
Chloe reached over and clasped Clark's hand. "Martha, don't take this the wrong way, but I had almost two thousand years to think about things since the others were forced to leave me behind back in ancient Rome. I decided during that time I would help the others rediscover their families. Well, Lex has his Mom back and Lana has her parents. Now, it is Clark's turn. He is a lot bigger challenge, but I do have a few leads. Anyway, my time machine is not limited to just times and places on Earth; I intend to find and contact his biological family."  
  
Jonathan and Martha just stared at her. They both had highly mixed emotions, being both glad Clark might finally have some of his questions answered and also a little afraid they might lose him.  
  
End of Chapter 2  
  
Author's Notes: A little shorter than my typical chapter, but this seems like a good spot to end this one. In the next chapter: Lionel has a very bad day trapped between the buzz saw that is Lillian and Chloe! If it doesn't run too long, I hope to finish most of the overlap with the season 1 finale in the next chapter. Then be ready for a 90 degree turn as the story finally heads off into virgin territory. I don't understand how so many people can write stories about existing episodes. At least for me, these past couple chapters have been more challenging than writing a completely fresh, new story.  
  
For Rebel Goddess - The general outline for this story is fairly clear in my head. Once we get past the season finale stuff, the rest of the story consists of three fairly stand-alone arcs where Clark's abilities are stretched to new limits, several characters from Superman canon (both good and evil) will be introduced in my own unique way, and of course, the relationships of the main characters will be twisted and tested. At the moment, I don't really see them going to the Shakespearean era during this story. However, during the 'second' arc of the story, I do think Clark and Lex will have to don tights to blend in with the society where they will be forced to travel. I will have to put on my 'research boy' hat and find the proper Shakespearean soliloquy for Lex to espouse to show his annoyance at his required attire. You will just have to be patient for six or seven chapters (i.e. - a few months). 


	3. Biological Families Chapter 3

Biological Families  
  
Author: duane at duaneaakre dot com  
  
Disclaimer: As always I own nothing. Well I own a house, two cars, a pair of jetskis, and a lot of other junk, but none of these characters.  
  
Story Rating: R [The story may drift into the HBO range rather than stay in the WB range, so to be on the safe side, I am rating this R.]  
  
Chapter 3  
  
At 3:55 PM, Lionel Luthor exited his helicopter. With the helicopter parked in its usual spot on the small grassy knoll on the east side of the mansion, there was just enough time for a slow, leisurely walk to Lex's study to arrive promptly for the requested 4:00 PM meeting.  
  
Lionel found Lex's response to the morning's announcement of the plant's closing both unexpected and even a little intriguing. He had spent a portion of his time since the events of the morning making inquiries into Lex's activities over the past few days. Who had Lex been in contact with that might have sufficient resources to oust him from his own company? Certainly it couldn't be his board of directors; he always made sure he had the necessary 'dirt' to control everyone before they were allowed on. So who did that leave?  
  
Nothing unusual had shown up in Lex's activities until Friday when he had gone to Metropolis University for a semi-annual briefing on a physics project LuthorCorp was funding, interestingly, a physics project involving meteor rocks. Lex should have been on campus for no more than a couple of hours, but the trail of his activities suddenly got cold and no trace of him could be found until he showed up at his penthouse apartment at 4 AM; a mere two hours after a mysterious explosion destroyed most of the physics building. The fire marshal's report his people had acquired indicated the explosion had originated in the very lab Lex had been visiting twelve hours earlier. What had been going on in that Lab? All records of the project at LuthorCorp had disappeared, the professor in charge of the project had not been seen since the afternoon before the explosion, and Lex's whereabouts were unaccounted for from ten hours before the explosion until two hours after it.  
  
According to the doorman at Lex's apartment building, Lex had arrived at the Penthouse at 4 AM Saturday morning and he had not been alone. He had been accompanied by four people: a woman of about forty, who the doorman had said was extremely striking in appearance, a couple in their mid- twenties, and a teenage girl. The doorman hadn't recognized any of the people with Lex and no names had been mentioned in his presence. Lionel immediately authorized the installation of hidden surveillance cameras in the lobby of the building so in the future he wouldn't be stuck with a second hand description of who was coming and going from Lex's apartment in the city.  
  
Lex and the four people with him had remained sequestered in the apartment until early Sunday afternoon when they had all boarded a limo for the trip to the Luthor estate in Smallville. So, whoever these people were, they were most likely still in Smallville. And the solitary man with the group had not matched the description of the missing physics professor.  
  
As Lionel strode down the hallway leading to Lex's study, he still didn't have a clue what was going on to back up the confident look in Lex's eye when he had issued his warning about forcing Lionel out of his position, if he didn't show up for this meeting. But Lionel knew in his gut that the explosion at the physics lab, the missing professor, and meteor rocks were somehow involved.  
  
Lionel paused for a moment outside the stained glass door leading into the study to gather his thoughts and put on his 'game face'. He had no idea who or what was waiting on the other side of the door, but he had been in similar situations many times before. In all business situations like this, he had found the secret was to never let the other side see your true emotions and always act as though you were the one in the position of authority, whether you really were or not.  
  
Opening the door he strode briskly into the study. His eyes quickly swept across the room from the second story library alcove to the pool table on the far side of the room. Nothing. The room was empty except for Lex sitting behind his desk working at his notebook computer.  
  
Once Lex noticed his father's presence, he lowered the screen of the computer, rose, and walked around the desk to greet his father.  
  
"Father, I'm glad you could make it. Can I fix you a drink?" Lex asked. After shaking his father's hand, he turned and walked over to the liquor cabinet and poured himself two fingers of his favorite whiskey as he waited his father's reply.  
  
Normally, Lionel would have joined his son for a drink, but in the ten seconds since Lex had risen from his chair he had noticed something alarming about Lex's body language. There was a bounce in his step that wouldn't be there, if his threat of the morning had been just a spur of the moment 'say the first thing that comes into your mind' reaction to the situation. No, Lex's body language was very confident. If Lex was that sure of himself, Lionel was not going to do anything which would dull his thinking. Of course, maybe the whole body language change could be attributed to something simpler like the radical change in Lex's appearance due to the addition of the hair piece. When he had first seen it this morning he had almost reacted in surprise, but had managed keep a straight face and not comment on the change. Even with Lex, especially with Lex, he needed to hide his true emotions. If the hair helped Lex's self-image, so be it. At least, Lionel thought, it is a first class job. He had never seen fake hair that short which looked so real.  
  
"No thanks, Lex. I had something on the ride down here. Now what is this all about? Why did you drag me back down here? I am still very busy tying up the final details of the acquisition of the Italian pharmaceutical company."  
  
"Come on, Dad. Can't we even exchange pleasantries before getting down to business? I am sure you would do that much for anyone else."  
  
Before Lionel could respond, the door to the study opened and a young, dark haired girl walked in. The girl was wearing a red bikini and a very shear white wrap that only seemed to emphasize the small amount of skin the swimsuit was hiding. Based on her wet hair, it was apparent she had come straight from the pool.  
  
The girl walked up to Lex and pulled him into a kiss that went on several seconds longer than was necessary before turning to Lionel.  
  
Reaching out her hand, she said. "Hi, I'm Lana Lang. It is a pleasure to finally meet you."  
  
Lionel's eyes did a quick glance over to Lex who was calmly watching to see his father's response and who didn't seem to be at all disturbed that the front of his purple silk dress shirt was wet from where the girl had pressed her body against his. In the moment it had taken him to glance a Lex, the girl's name registered. So, this was the girl Lex was partnered with in the coffee shop business. He had always wondered why Lex wasted so much time and effort on such a small-time operation, now he knew. The girl was stunning, although she seemed awfully young, even for Lex.  
  
"No, the pleasure is all mine," said Lionel as he shook her still damp hand.  
  
After they broke contact, Lana took a step back. "Don't mind me. Please carry on with your business. I just wanted to be here when the show and the fireworks began. Oh, Lex, where is that first edition Italian copy of Dante Alighieri's 'Commedia'? You know the one that had the passage you wanted me to translate?"  
  
Lionel was so surprised a young girl from Smallville would know medieval Italian, for a moment her comment about upcoming fireworks almost slipped his mind. "You can read medieval Italian?"  
  
Lana grinned. "Oh, I have a real gift for languages. You would be surprised. Plus Dante's works are among the earliest examples of Italian literature still in existence. I mean most of the important writers of that era were still working in Latin, which was only known and understood by the clergy and the upper class. Dante was one of the first to publish historically significant works in Italian rather than Latin so they would be available to the middle and lower classes in addition to the upper class and the clergy."  
  
"You sound like a real fan," remarked Lionel. Thirty seconds in her presence and his opinion of her was already higher than that of any of the other 'friends' of Lex's he had ever met.  
  
Lana grinned. "Yes. He is not considered the greatest literary artist by so many experts without reason. I first read an English translation about three years ago and it got me hooked. I have since read several other translations, my favorite being the one by Longfellow. But none of the English versions I have read to date has ever been able to achieve the 'terza rima' style of rhyming Dante developed specifically for this work, that's why I have been working on my own translation."  
  
"You are doing your own translation?" asked Lionel. This girl was as far as he could imagine from the blonde, 'air head', 'wannabe trophy wife' that Lex use to date.  
  
Lana nodded. "I have the 'Inferno' portion finished, but have barely made a start on 'Purgatorio', and then comes the real challenge, 'Paradiso'. T.S. Eliot called the last canto of 'Paradiso', "the highest point that poetry has ever reached or ever can reach". So the thought of working on that part is very daunting, but I have about 8,000 more lines to complete before I get there. Anyway if you are interested, I could read the part I have completed for you some time. Or perhaps we could discuss some of the philosophical points. Why do you think the 9th and lowest level of hell is reserved for the treacherous?"  
  
Lionel felt a sudden pang in his chest. This was obviously a subtle and not-so-subtle comment on his actions at the plant this morning. This girl looked nothing like her, but why was he suddenly reminded of Lillian, who he hadn't thought about in months, when he looked at her?  
  
As Lionel stood there, for once speechless, Lex stepped in to get this meeting with his father back on track. "Lana, the Divine Comedy is in the display case at the top of the stairs. The key should be in the lock. The page with the passage I am interested in is marked."  
  
Lana nodded to Lex she understood, and headed for the steps leading up to Lex's small private library, where he kept his most important acquisitions. The main library, which contained the more mundane books, was located three doors down the corridor.  
  
As she ascended the stairs, neither man could remove his eyes from her posterior, a very cute little butt that was mostly exposed, as the tiny bikini bottom had ridden up until the suit looked almost like a thong. When she bent from the waist to release the lock on the glass display case, Lex seriously considered kicking his father out of his study so he and Lana could have some uninterrupted fun.  
  
After she retrieved the book, Lana returned to the main level of the study and dropped onto the couch by the fireplace. She sprawled on her stomach near one end of the couch with her legs bent up at the knees. The book was place almost reverentially on the couch before her and then carefully opened to the page Lex had bookmarked.  
  
"Okay, guys, pretend I am not here and get back to whatever it was you were discussing." Then Lana lowered her attention to the book. She had intended to only pretend to look at the book, as once she had identified the passage Lex had marked she could instantly draw on the data Chloe had downloaded into her nanobot memory to perform a translation. But seeing the beautifully handwritten manuscript triggered an echo of some long forgotten memory Chloe had never intended to include. Dante Alighieri had lived his first thirty seven years in Florence before being exiled in 1302 for political reasons. The memory that had been triggered had nothing to do with Dante, but contained a small snippet from a masked ball at Palazzo Medici-Riccardi hosted by an elderly Cosimo de' Medici about one hundred fifty years later. As Lana's mind was sucked into the grandeur of a party that could have only occurred during the peak of the Italian High Renaissance, her words about not being there might as well have been true.  
  
After several seconds of enjoying the view of her prominently displayed ass, Lex coughed subtly to get his father's attention and then moved back over to his desk to get clear of the ultimate distraction that was Lana Lang.  
  
As Lana disappeared from his field of view, it was suddenly like Lionel Luthor's brain switched back on. And the first thing to register was Lana's comment about upcoming fireworks. She obviously knew what was about to happen and suddenly she was the most likely candidate for the teenage girl who had been a member of the group that had spent most of the weekend in Lex's apartment. Not that 'teenage girl' felt like the most appropriate label for her. No, there was something about her which shouted 'much older and more mature than any teenage girl should be' in Lionel's head.  
  
Looking at Lex, Lionel said a single word, "Fireworks?"  
  
Lex almost reached over and toyed with the small, wood and chrome box, which contained the octagonal piece from Clark's ship, as he contemplated his response to Lionel's question. He had completely forgotten about the disk in all of the excitement since his return to Smallville. He definitely needed to remember to return it to Clark soon.  
  
"You really should reconsider your plan to close the plant here in Smallville. I have found the most unique and powerful ally, a person who is more than willing to step in if you don't change your mind."  
  
"Lex . . . Lex . . . I can't imagine who you think you have found who can help you in this misguided attempt to save the plant. No one on the board of directors is going to help you. And besides, the majority of the LuthorCorp stock is held in the family and your share of the stock will remain in the trust fund I control until your twenty fifth birthday."  
  
Suddenly, a female voice Lionel found oddly familiar called out from the doorway. "Family? Now there's a topic I would like to discuss. Lionel, why are you treating our son like this? Can't you see he is truly happy here in Smallville? Happy for the first time in at least ten years?"  
  
Lionel turned in his seat and received the biggest shock in his life. Walking across the room towards him was a woman who was the spitting image of his long-lost wife, Lillian. The vibrant, strikingly beautiful woman she had been before the onset of the long, slow, ultimately fatal illness. The one woman in his long, hard life he had truly loved.  
  
"Lillian," he whispered quickly rising to his feet, as his mind raced to figure out how this was possible.  
  
"Yes, Lionel, it is really me," said the woman as she walked up to him and then pulled his mouth down for a fierce, hungry kiss.  
  
Lionel's first thought on seeing her, well second thought after thinking Lana's comment about fireworks might be the understatement of the year, was about cloning. He had been secretly funding research into human cloning for the past five years. They had had some limited success, but nothing approaching the level required to duplicate his long-dead wife. Had Lex found out about his research and then started a parallel program of his own that had been more successful?  
  
However as soon as the kiss began, Lionel knew in his heart this was no clone, but the real Lillian somehow returned to him. The taste of her mouth, the oh so familiar way her tongue dueled with his, no this was his Lillian.  
  
The kiss went on for many long seconds and Lionel wanted it to go on forever, but eventually he had to pull back, had to ask, "How?"  
  
Slowly Lillian opened her eyes, but did nothing to loosen the tight embrace in which she held him. It had been so long since her body had felt this health and strong in Lionel's presence. She couldn't suppress the brief shudder that passed through her body as her breasts seem to swell and her nipples harden. God, how she had missed him all of those months lying on her deathbed. How could she ever adequately thank Chloe for retrieving her from death and restoring her body? Chloe had said all the thanks she wanted was Lillian's help to see Lex had a happier life. At this moment she fully understood, as only another mother could. As much as she wanted Lionel, it would be on her terms, terms which would put Lex's happiness first.  
  
"How is not important right now," she began as she ran her fingers through Lionel's long, thick hair. It was a little grayer than she remembered, but still magnificent. "What is important is Lex. In the past couple of days I have seen several moments when he has been truly happy. And he has real friends here, something he never had when we were a family back in Metropolis. Why are you trying to take all of that away from him?"  
  
How could he explain to her the goals he had for Lex, Lionel wondered. Ever since he had lost her, he had thrown himself into his work. He had achieved great things already, but time was running short and he needed Lex ready to pick up the reigns. And if Lex was to be successful in his plans, Lex would need to be tough as nails. There would be no time for things like happiness and friends.  
  
One kiss, no matter the great things it promised, was not sufficient to divert Lionel from his path. A little more brusquely than he intended, he said. "I have dreams for Lex and unfortunately they don't allow time for things like happiness or friends."  
  
"You have dreams? What about what Lex wants? Have you ever stopped to ask what his dreams are?"  
  
With those few words Lionel knew there was a gulf between them they might never bridge. Oh, he could feel their bodies reacting and knew they would make love, might even get back together. But Lex was in the center of things and the two of them might never agree on what was right or necessary for him.  
  
"Lex is returning with me to Metropolis and the plant is staying closed. That is my final word."  
  
Lillian shook her head. "Lionel, you should never have locked me away all of those years in the sanatorium without the right paperwork. Now that I am back, I think you might end up in jail on kidnapping or some similar charge."  
  
Lionel stared at her. "Are you crazy? What are you talking about? I saw you die nine years ago in our house in Metropolis."  
  
"Well, you know that and I know that. But obviously I am very much alive now and people don't just come back from the dead. No, everyone, including the cops, will readily believe a story that you faked my death and had me committed to get me out of your way."  
  
Had Lillian faked her own death? Why had she chosen to return at this moment? Wherever she had been and however she had returned, her story would be believed with a little easily fabricated supporting data and given his own well-known ruthless behavior.  
  
"If you want to battle this out in the courts, so be it. But until you win, the plant is staying closed."  
  
The situation was rapidly devolving into a stalemate when the door to the study opened once again and Chloe and Clark walked in.  
  
Chloe took in the room and the situation in a single glance and then walked right over to Lex. When she reached him, she simply said. "Lex, I am very unhappy."  
  
Lionel watched as Lex seemed to pale slightly as though he was intimidated by this blonde girl. He thought only he was able to intimidate Lex and even he seemed to have lost the ability recently. Lionel looked back at the girl and knew he had seen her before. Then it came to him, he had met her at the plant Christmas party two years earlier. She was Gabe Sullivan's daughter. Why would Sullivan's daughter intimidate Lex?  
  
"Chloe, I had no idea until I was standing on the platform this morning what my Father was going to do. Mom and I have been trying to turn this around."  
  
"And have you succeeded?"  
  
Lex let out a sigh and put his hand up and ruffled it through his short hair. "Not yet. It may end up in a court battle and that will take time."  
  
As they were talking Lana had gotten up from the coach and come over to wrap her arm supportively around Lex. Lex and Lionel might have thought her comment about fireworks was about the revelation of Lillian's return, but she and Chloe had had a special little mind-linked chat before they had left school. No, the real fireworks were about to begin.  
  
"Lex, I don't have time for that kind of bullshit. I have things I need to accomplish here in Smallville and I am going to need the help of you, Lana, and Clark. Having the plant close and creating major havoc in the lives of everyone in Smallville is an annoyance I don't need."  
  
Lionel watched Lex stand there at a loss for words. He still didn't understand why Lex was reacting this way to the girl.  
  
Suddenly, Lana spoke about. "What about if we turn Lionel, too? Then we could force him to do our biding. You got to turn Lex and Lillian, let me have him. I really want to drink his blood."  
  
Lionel stared at Lana as she looked back at him with an evil little grin and then slowly licked her lips. He glanced over at Chloe and was shocked to see her eyes had been replaced with pools of crimson blood with small trickles cascading down her cheeks from the corners. When he looked back at Lana, her eyes were the same.  
  
"What?" he mumbled in shock as he started to back away until his back was up against the couch.  
  
"What do you mean, what?" asked Lana as she took a single step towards him. "Haven't you ever heard of vampires and their thralls before?"  
  
She took another step forward and stepped directly into a beam of light that was entering the study through the high chapel style colored glass windows above the second floor library.  
  
Lionel watched as her skin glowed in the orange-tinted light, but she didn't burst into flames or anything. "The sunlight."  
  
Lana briefly turned her head up and looked directly into the sunlight streaming down from above. "A legend we fabricated long ago. True vampires are not affected by sunlight."  
  
Clark had seen Chloe do this eye trick before when they had been back in ancient Rome and realized the girls were playing some game with Lionel's head. "Chloe, isn't there some other solution? Do we really need or want another thrall?"  
  
Lex had been almost as shocked as his father when he first saw Chloe and Lana's eyes, but having some understanding of their abilities, he recovered a lot faster. "Chloe, you didn't let me finish before. I am working on a backup plan to stage an employee buyout of the plant. The only problem is, at first glance, the employees can only come up with twenty five percent of the required funding. If we can get my Mother declared legally alive, she can access her portion of the Luthor fortune to make up the difference."  
  
Chloe appeared to think for a moment and then said, "Lana, wait."  
  
Chloe closed her eyes for about five seconds and when she opened them, they had returned to normal. After a few seconds, Lana followed suit. When she opened her eyes they were normal, but the expression on her face told Lionel she was still ready, maybe even eager, to attack him.  
  
Chloe turned to Lex. "I like that plan, but I'll put up the difference instead. I want you to run it and perhaps we can give the new company a name like LexCorp, as I prefer to stay in the background. Oh, and I have some biotech and nanotech research I would like you to take charge of. Perhaps we can reopen Level 3 to handle it."  
  
Then as if she had just remembered Lionel was still there, Chloe turned and said. "Are you still here, Lionel? I think the rest of this conversation needs to be private. Lex will be in touch with you about the terms of the buyout. Oh, and I wouldn't tell anyone about what you just witnessed. Everyone knows vampires are just a myth and anyone you tell will just think you are crazy. Also, do not even think about fucking with me."  
  
Here Chloe paused and walked over to the liquor cabinet and picked up a white towel. Then she picked up the letter opener from Lex's desk before walking over to Lionel. She spread the towel on the floor in front of him before standing back up. Taking the letter opener in her right hand, she stabbed it hard into her left forearm just below the elbow and ripped it towards her wrist. The cut was at least six inches long and so deep Lionel could see bone and tendons before the wound filled with blood.  
  
No way was the wound faked, thought Lionel, as he watched in horrified fascination. As he watched, it was like movie magic; immediately the ends of the wound started to close and in less than five seconds it looked completely healed except for a coating of blood.  
  
Chloe bent down to retrieve the towel which had a few splotches of blood which had dripped from her arm. Calmly, she used the towel to wipe the remaining blood from her arm.  
  
Looking Lionel in the eye, Chloe said. "Lana and I wouldn't have survived all these centuries, if we were pushovers. Now, from now on, you should consider Smallville my territory. You are welcome to visit Lex and Lillian here at the mansion anytime you want, but if you plan any other activities here; you better fucking well clear them with me first."  
  
Chloe turned to Lillian. "Now, Lillian, if you would be as kind as to see Lionel out, Lex and I have some business to conduct."  
  
Lillian had had no idea of Chloe and Lana's plan when she had entered the room, but when Chloe had first walked past her she had brushed Lillian's arm with her fingers just long enough to activate Lillian's 'bots and pass along the gist of their little plan. Since Lionel had been acting like a royal jerk, Lillian hadn't felt any remorse at the girls playing a little game with his head.  
  
As Lillian took his arm to get him moving from where he still stood frozen against the back of the couch, Lana made one final comment. "Lionel, my medieval Italian skills? I lived it."  
  
The last expression he saw on her face was a combination of hunger and arrogance he had never quite seen before.  
  
As the door to the study closed behind the senior Luthors, Lex and Clark could hardly wait until Lionel was a safe distance down the corridor before simultaneously trying to ask what that had all been about.  
  
Chloe smiled. "We thought Lionel could use a little distraction. Living forever, instant healing, being able to influence the minds of those we infect, reviving the dead, when it comes down to it, Lana and my abilities are not that much different from the legendary vampires. So, we let Lionel think we are vampires and he burns up a lot of time, manpower, and budget researching them. And if his people are really good and dig up information about my former lives, well it just makes the cover story more convincing."  
  
Lana jumped in. "Yeah, and if he does something stupid like come after Chloe or me, it's not like a stake through the heart is going to kill either of us."  
  
Lex just shook his head. "Okay, it seems pretty crazy. But if some of us played Gods in ancient Rome, I guess some of us can be vampires here. I will admit the blood-filled eye trick was very startling."  
  
Lana came back over and put her arms around Lex. "Can you handle sleeping with a monster?" And then she made a little growling sound deep in her throat.  
  
Lex laughed and then pulled her face up for a kiss.  
  
When it became apparent the kiss wasn't going to end any time soon, Chloe interrupted.  
  
"Lex, I think we should work out some of the details of the buyout before we get sidetracked. And I do have some nanotech projects I would like you to start as soon as things settle down."  
  
Only slightly reluctantly did Lex break the kiss. He was definitely eager to see what projects Chloe had in mind.  
  
End of Chapter 3  
  
---------------- Author's Notes  
  
1. A book recommendation - 'Sprezzatura - 50 Ways Italian Genius Shaped the World' by Peter D'Epiro and Mary Pinkowish. This book has short 6-10 page articles on 50 important Italians down through history. The references to Dante and Cosimo de' Medici in this chapter are from this book. A useful book when you want to make historical references by Lex or Lionel (or in my story Lana) seem more real.  
  
2. Next up - The Storm. Of course, in my version things will be twisted around, as usual. Be prepared for cliffhangers. Or not :) 


	4. Biological Families Chapter 4

Biological Families  
  
Author: duane at duaneaakre dot com  
  
Disclaimer: As always I own nothing. Well I own a house, two cars, a pair of jetskis, and a lot of other junk, but none of these characters.  
  
Story Rating: R [The story may drift into the HBO range rather than stay in the WB range, so to be on the safe side, I am rating this R.]  
  
Chapter 4  
  
Up until this moment the day had been going so well, thought Lex. In the four days since his father had announced he was closing the plant, Lex and his plant managers had hammered out a proposal for the employee buyout which had won the support of the majority of the workers. Chloe had come through with the seventy five percent the employees were short, just as she had promised. Lex had experienced her extravagant lifestyle back in Rome, but somehow that was different. Back here at home, Chloe still seemed to him to be a simple high school girl. So, when she called at lunchtime on Friday for a status report and he told her she was going to have to come up with sixty three million, he still found himself a little surprised when she said she would stop by his office Saturday morning with the appropriate bank account numbers.  
  
The bigger surprise had come when Chloe had shown up at his office. After handing him the paper with the information on the numbered Swiss bank account with the money for the buyout, she handed over a CD-Rom and info on a second bank account.  
  
"Lex, here is the information on the first group of nanotech projects I want you to initiate and some seed money to get things rolling. I have had a number of small start-up companies scattered around the world doing preliminary bits and pieces, but I didn't want to risk bringing it all together until we were safely past the Roman time loop, so as not to risk the timeline. Now that we are finally past all that, I would like to centralize some of these activities here in Smallville so we can better coordinate things. On the disk are key people in each area, the patents I hold through dummy companies and other patents we need to acquire, a list of other companies with critical technologies we need to obtain either via contracting their services or buying out the companies."  
  
Lex stuck the CD into his notebook computer and was astounded by both the detail and complexity of her plans and the grandeur of her goals. This was obviously not something Chloe had just thrown together in the past couple of days.  
  
"Have you known all along my Father was going to close the plant?" asked Lex when he looked up from the computer screen.  
  
Chloe shook her head. "No, it was just a happy coincidence. I was planning to talk to you about this next week after the school year ended and I would have more time to be involved. But this will be very convenient, the initial staffing for the projects will only be a few hundred and they won't be noticed mixed in with the large staff of the plant."  
  
Lex took a deep breath and decided this was as good of time as any to bring this up. "We haven't discussed my compensation, yet."  
  
Chloe cocked her head and raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure we can come up with an agreeable amount."  
  
Lex waved his hand indicated his study and the rest of the Luthor mansion. "A salary is not what I was talking about."  
  
"So, what is it you want? Part ownership? That's acceptable; as I am sure it will help with your motivation."  
  
"That's part of it." Lex hesitated for a moment. "There is one other thing. I would like three hours of your time each week to discuss whatever I want whether it is the current projects, economics, art, history, or whatever."  
  
Chloe remembered sitting under a shade tree on the shore of the Mediterranean Sea with Lex, Clark, and Lana talking about economics and the history of gold. "Two hours."  
  
Lex nodded.  
  
"Great," said Chloe as she rose to her feet. "Now I have a dance to get ready for."  
  
It wasn't until after she left that Lex got around to checking into the separate account with the 'seed' money for her nanotech projects and found 3.6 billion dollars. Serious money, even by Luthor standards. But then some of the long term projects on the list were almost unbelievably grandiose. And exactly what did the final one with the single word 'Heaven' mean?  
  
Lex shook his head. Chloe had lived almost forever and she had accumulated an enormous fortune over time, yet she was capable of doing incredibly stupid things, too. Her little 'Greek God' game had gotten her and Lana killed and had almost killed Lex, too. Now she had started this whole 'let's pretend we're vampires' game with his father. She had once commented on being stuck in a sixteen-year-old's body with a sixteen-year- old's hormones. Was that why she played these childish games? Or was it merely a sign of her boredom after thousands and thousands of years of life? If he had lived for tens of thousands of years, would he too shake things up just for the hell of it, particularly if he knew the odds of survival were almost 100%. Was that the point? Was she intentionally creating situations where there was at least a possibility she might get killed?  
  
Well, playing these games with his father was certainly as dangerous as playing them in ancient Rome. However, it had, a least temporarily, chased his father back to Metropolis. After he had left Lex's study, Lionel had immediately climbed aboard his chopper. Lex didn't discover his mother had gone with him until she called several hours later.  
  
The question was what was his Mother telling his Father about things, like how she had returned from the dead or the truth about the vampire story? If it came to it, what would he tell his father? Revealing Chloe and Lana's nanobot secrets would put them at risk. Revealing Clark's secret would put him at risk. Revealing that a time machine was possible, even if the only one in existence had been destroyed, seemed most dangerous of all. Would it be like nuclear bombs, where every country that tried to build one was successful on the first try? What would his father do with a time machine?  
  
However those questions could all wait for another day. It was time he focused his attention on Lana. He had been so preoccupied with the buyout, he hadn't been able to spend as much time with Lana as he would have liked. Fortunately, by the middle of the afternoon, the last of the papers had been signed and the lawyers, union management, and the plant management had finally departed. As plant manager, Gabe Sullivan had been present for most of the activities and by the end Lex was having a hard time keeping a straight face around him, particularly when he was moaning about putting up the $350,000 which was his share of the buyout money. Although Gabe always said Chloe was his daughter, Chloe had told Lex back in Rome that Gabe thought she was the daughter of his second cousins who had been killed three years earlier in a car crash. Gabe had legally adopted her and in every way treated her as if she really was his daughter. While Gabe was complaining about the money for the buyout, Lex was trying to imagine the expression on Gabe's face if he found out his 'daughter' had just handed Lex over three billion dollars.  
  
Anyway, it was about four thirty; maybe twenty minutes after everyone involved with the buyout had left, when Lana walked into Lex's study. He had been sitting there idly rolling the disk from Clark's ship between his fingers like an oversize silver dollar being worked by a card shark in some old West movie. Most of his attention was still focused on the buyout and trying to identify any other holes in their plan that needed to be filled before the final paperwork was submitted to Lionel and LuthorCorp on Monday. He had been so engrossed with his thoughts; he almost didn't notice Lana's approach. Almost being the keyword, as he couldn't imagine work ever being so important as to completely remove her from his thoughts. That might have been the case before Rome, but certainly not since their return. Oh, the whole buyout thing had consumed more of his attention than he had expected, but then the livelihood of many of Lana, Chloe, and Clark's friends depended on his efforts.  
  
"Hey, Lana, things have finally quieted down with the buyout, how about we drive to Topeka for dinner? I know it's not as nice as Metropolis or as convenient as Smallville, but we are less likely to run into my father or anyone else we know."  
  
Lana shook her head as she leaned back against the corner of his desk, an action which caused the bottom of her tee shirt to ride up exposing a small strip of midriff above the top of her low-slung jeans. Lex's attention focused on the bare skin and he dropped the disk onto the desktop as he reached over to slowly run his hand up under the tee shirt.  
  
"We can't. Well, we can, but we will have to make a late start. Remember? Whitney is leaving for the Marines this evening and I promised to drive him to the bus station. I was just about to leave, but I should be back by seven. Perhaps we can head out to dinner then."  
  
Lex was not too happy with Lana's whole handling of the Whitney situation. Okay, Whitney had been her boyfriend before him; he could accept that. But Lana was with him now and she should have made a nice clean break with Whitney, it was only fair to both Whitney and him. However when she had found out Whitney was leaving in a few days anyway, she just left things awkwardly hanging.  
  
"Lana, you need to tell Whitney the truth about us. It is not fair to him. He is starting a new phase of his life and he shouldn't be under any delusions that you are going to sitting here waiting for his return."  
  
Lana knew in her heart Lex was right, but every time she had been with Whitney this week she couldn't force herself to do it. She tried to convince herself she hadn't said anything to make things easier for Whitney, he had been through so much with the recent loss of his father. But she knew that wasn't the real reason, telling Whitney would bring to an end that chapter of her life. They had been together for three years. Three happy, mostly innocent years. Now her life was so different: Lex and all of his money, she and her enhanced body, the return of her parents. Everything seemed so complicated and there were moments she wished her life could go back to the simple way it was before the past year.  
  
"I know, Lex, but it is hard. Face it, I am not like you. I can't just make a decision and instantly carry it through."  
  
"You need to tell him something."  
  
Lana nodded. "I will, before he gets on the bus."  
  
Lex picked up the disk from the desk. "While you are taking care of Whitney, I guess I will run this over to Clark. I have been meaning to give it to him all week, but with all of the excitement with the buyout, it keeps slipping my mind. Plus, this will give me a chance to go down in his storm cellar and see the ship."  
  
Lana took the disk from Lex and turned it over in her hand, stopping to examine the alien characters inscribed on one surface. "This is really a piece of Clark's spaceship?"  
  
"Yeah, don't you remember me telling you about it before? No, wait, I guess it was Laura who I told."  
  
"My Mom?"  
  
"No, the other Laura, when Chloe's mind was controlling your body."  
  
"Oh," said Lana, still not one hundred percent comfortable with Lex's interactions with Laura.  
  
"Oh," she said again for a different reason. Handing the disk back to Lex, she continued. "You can't go give this to Clark now. Tonight is the big dance. Chloe will kill you, if you distract Clark. And I do mean kill you. Oh, she would probably bring you back and all, but she has been looking forward to this for a long time."  
  
Lex felt a slight shiver run through his body. Setting the disk back down on his desk, he stood, pulling Lana to her feet. "Far be it for me to stand in the way of Clark and Chloe getting to the school dance. I guess I am stuck hanging around here at the mansion, maybe your Dad is up for a rematch at X-box. At least let me walk you to your car."  
  
Lana pulled Lex into a quick kiss and then taking his hand headed to the garage where her little burgundy Jeep Liberty sat looking out of place among all of Lex's exotic cars.  
  
-----------------------------------------  
  
Roger Nixon had arrived at the Luthor Estate an hour earlier after carefully looping around Smallville on back roads to avoid, as much as possible, accidentally running into Clark Kent. He had even picked up a rental car before leaving Metropolis to further reduce the risks of Kent noticing him.  
  
When Nixon finally reached the estate, he had found a whole line up of cars in the front drive and pulled his car to the side of the road to wait for things to quiet down. After about thirty minutes, whatever event had been going on broke up and the dozen cars departed. Ten minutes later he started his car and drove up to the front gate. He had been to the estate enough times during the previous six months that the guard on duty recognized him and waved him on in. After he parked, he proceeded to the front door. The head butler didn't happen to be present and rather than ring the bell, Nixon let himself in. 'You never knew when a little harmless snooping might payoff,' he thought to himself.  
  
Quietly, Nixon walked down the hallway leading to Lex's office, hoping Lex would be somewhere else in the mansion and perhaps he could have a crack at Lex's computer files. But as he approached, he found the door partially open and could hear voices from inside. Cautiously peering around the edge of the door jamb, he recognized Lana Lang from the Talon as the other occupant with Lex.  
  
Listening to their conversation, Nixon quickly realized the two were more than just co-owners of a coffee shop. Perhaps this was why Lionel Luthor was suddenly putting out urgent inquiries to all of the news sources in Metropolis, legitimate and otherwise, for any and all information on one Lana Lang of Smallville. If she and Lex were suddenly an item, it would explain dear ole Dad's interest. However, it didn't explain why Lionel Luthor was just as urgently looking for information on Chloe Sullivan, Clark Kent's girlfriend. 'If there is anyone in Smallville Lionel Luthor should be frantically trying to get info on, it was Clark Kent, not a couple of ordinary high school girls,' thought Nixon.  
  
But all thoughts of why Lionel was interested in the girls was instantly swept from his mind when the conversation in the room turned to the disk and Kent's ship. Kent had a spaceship in his family's storm cellar? A spaceship? Did that mean Kent was an alien? It would certainly explain the unbelievable things he had been able to do the day Nixon had tried to blow him up in his truck.  
  
He couldn't help but risk another peek into the study and saw Lex set a small disk down on the desk before pulling the Lang girl into a kiss. As they pulled apart and turned towards the door, Nixon jerked back and headed down the hallway to stay out of sight.  
  
He had to see the spaceship for himself. If he could get video of the ship, it would be all the proof he needed. And from what Lana Lang was saying, Kent would be gone from the farm all evening for a dance. Today would be the perfect time to go.  
  
Nixon had ducked into the library leaving the doorway open slightly to be able to hear what was going on in the corridor. After a few seconds Lex and Lana walked passed heading towards the back of the mansion in the direction of the garage. If Lex was walking her to her car, it would be at least a few minutes before he would return to his study. Nixon decided to see if Lex had left the disk from the ship in his study. An actual piece of the ship would certainly help validate any video.  
  
Of course, now the whole issue of who would be the best buyer was altered. When he had tried to get footage of Clark surviving a truck explosion, the obvious buyer had been Lex or his Father. But since Lex already knew about the ship and therefore Clark's secret, if he went to Lex, Lex would just blow him off or, at best, bribe him to keep quiet. However knowing Lex, he would probably just make him disappear. Which left Lionel Luthor, but if he wasn't looking for information on Clark, but rather on the two girls, did that mean he also already knew about Clark and his ship?  
  
No, with the disk and footage of the ship, he wouldn't have to admit to anything illegal like with the ill-conceived truck explosion idea. Therefore he could take this to legitimate buyers like the Daily Planet. Hell, he could even go to one of the television networks, which would be better suited for video anyway.  
  
As Nixon headed back to Lex's study, his mind was a swirl with the possibilities of this story catapulting him to a correspondent's job on one of the weekly TV newsmagazines. Entering the office, he quickly strode over to the desk. No, the disk was not sitting on the desk like he had last seen it. Frantically Nixon started to search the contents of the desk. Finally, after a few minutes of searching the drawers, he found it in a small ornate box sitting in plain sight on top of the desk.  
  
He had just replaced the box in its original position and leaned back in Lex's chair to study the disk when he heard footsteps coming down the hall. He barely had time to stuff it into his pocket and casually swing his feet up onto the desk before Lex walked into the room.  
  
"Roger Nixon. I don't recall requesting your presence in Smallville today. What are you doing here?" asked Lex as he walked past his desk and over to the liquor cabinet where he poured a drink for himself, but made no offer to Nixon.  
  
Nixon stood up from the chair. "I had some news you might be interested in and thought it was worth driving out here."  
  
After taking a sip of his drink, Lex asked. "What news would that be?"  
  
Nixon shoved his hands in his pockets, but when his left hand closed on the disk, he quickly pulled them back out. "Your father is putting out urgent inquiries about two girls from Smallville. And not just to all the normal channels in Metropolis. According to some of my sources, information requests are also going out to the FBI, the CIA, and other less official sources. Since the girls involved are your business partner at the Talon, Lana Lang, and Clark Kent's girlfriend, Chloe Sullivan, I thought I should make sure you knew."  
  
Lex knew after the 'vampire' incident his father would be searching for information. And he knew it was the main point of Chloe's plan; let Lionel waste a lot of time searching for something that wasn't there. But he had expected his father to start out a little more subtly.  
  
Then Nixon's comment about Chloe being Clark's girlfriend sank in. Their relationship had only really developed during the trip to Rome. How had Nixon come into possession of that information during the past week?  
  
"Thanks for the head's up. Perhaps you can discretely pass some information back through channels to my Father for me."  
  
"You know me, discretion is my middle name. I will see any info you want will be passed on and in no way will it be connected to you."  
  
Lex gave him a long stare, but concluded it with a short nod. He needed to talk with Chloe to see if she had any information she wanted to suggest to head Lionel's wild goose chase in a specific direction. "I will call you either tomorrow or Monday with the information I would like passed along. Was there anything else?"  
  
The journalist in Nixon wanted to ask about what was going on with the two girls since Lex didn't seem particularly surprised his Father was investigating them, but he had the disk and now knew where Kent's spaceship was. It was better to get out of here before he slipped up and said something to give himself away.  
  
"No, Lex. That's it. But I thought you would want to know about your Father's sudden interest in these girls. I will look forward to your call."  
  
Lex watched as Nixon walked out of the study. Usually, it seemed like he had to almost have security come to drag Nixon out of his office, but today Nixon had walked out at the first hint of any excuse. Lex pondered it for a moment, but decided he had more important things to think about than Roger Nixon.  
  
----------------------------  
  
With the pickup not yet back from the weld shop where the new fuel tank was being installed, Chloe in the end picked up Clark in her Corvair for the drive to the dance. She usually liked to drive with the top down, but the wind had been picking up all afternoon and it looked like it was going to storm before the dance was over. Therefore she had been forced to leave the top on her car up to try and protect her hair and the custom green silk gown she was wearing.  
  
As they arrived at the school and Clark hurried around to open her door, Chloe couldn't help but take a moment to admire how good Clark looked in a tux. It suited him much better than the toga he had worn the last time she had seen him formally attired for an excursion to the Circus Maximus and then on to Emperor Caligula's imperial palace. But then Clark was definitely more of a twenty first century sort of guy than an ancient Roman.  
  
Rising from the car with Clark's help, she couldn't stop herself from running her hands up and down the lapels of his tuxedo. "Clark, you look so hot in a tux. We need to find events that require this sort of attire more often."  
  
Clark pulled her in close and rested his hands on her lower back, very lower back as most of his long fingers were caressing the upper curves of her ass. "I am not nearly as hot as you look in that gown. Although it does seem slightly muted compared to the one I remember in Rome."  
  
Chloe blushed slightly as she looked up into Clark's face. "It seemed best to add an extra layer of silk here in prudish Smallville. I don't want to get expelled because nipples and other bits show through an ultra-sheer gown. However, I did have an exact copy of the other gown made as well, if we can find the appropriate occasion. Hmmm, the only place I can think to wear it would be some outrageously upscale Hollywood party. I do have financial interests in a couple of movie studios. Would you like to fly out to L.A. some weekend for some serious partying?"  
  
Before Clark could answer, a powerful gust of wind nearly swept Chloe from her feet.  
  
"Let's continue this conversation inside," suggested Clark as he moved to Chloe's left side to use his body to help block the wind.  
  
Joining all of the other formally clad students, they rushed to the entrance trying to outrun the wall of rain already sweeping across the athletic field to the south and heading straight for the school. They had just passed through the front doors when the storm broke over the windows in a deluge. Chloe began an infectious laugh in celebration of their perfect timing, a laugh which quickly spread to Clark.  
  
They had just gotten past the dense throng clustered inside the front door when they came upon Whitney and Lana, both looking decidedly out of place in jeans and tee shirts.  
  
Lana looked the pair over. "Wow, you guys look great." Then giving Chloe a quick wink, she continued. "That gown brings back some interesting memories."  
  
Whitney gave Lana a curious look as he wondered where she would have seen Chloe in a gown like that before.  
  
Just then Pete Ross and his date walked up. Their timing hadn't been quite as good as the others and they looked a little drenched.  
  
"Hi, Erica," said Chloe brightly, wondering once again at the secret to Pete's charm. Erica had been voted 'mostly likely to end up a supermodel' by the class and seemed way out of Pete's league.  
  
"Hi," returned Erica with a smile.  
  
Pete was having a hard time not stammering in all of his excitement. "Chloe, could you . . . ah"  
  
At this point Erica grabbed the camera from Pete's hand and handed it to Chloe. "What Pete is trying to say is, could you please take our picture?"  
  
"Of course," she answered before turning to Clark. "I'll be just a minute." Then she reached up to wipe a couple of raindrops from Clark's face before pulling his head down to whisper in his ear. "I think Pete wants proof this night really happened."  
  
Clark pulled back with a grin as he watched Chloe lead Pete and Erica off in search of an appropriate backdrop for the photo. It seemed like for the last few weeks the events in ancient Rome had drawn Chloe, Lana, Lex, and him into such a tight-knit little circle, it hadn't left much room for his other friends like Pete. Clark promised himself he would find time in the next few days to hang more with Pete; perhaps they could do a baseball game in Metropolis or a day-long fishing trip to Crater Lake.  
  
As Clark watched Chloe walk away with just a hint more sway to the hips than was normal, he remembered Whitney and Lana standing there.  
  
"Well," said Whitney. "I guess this is it."  
  
"Good luck, Whitney," responded Clark and meaning it. Joining the Marines sounded like a very big, scary step. Clark was suddenly glad he was still several years from graduating and having to make the big life-altering decisions.  
  
"Lana, could I have a minute alone with Clark?" asked Whitney.  
  
Whitney was forced to watch a quick glance pass between Lana and Clark. A glance he had seen several times before this week between Lana, Clark, and Chloe. A glance that seemed to say they were all in on some big secret they were not sharing with him. Not a 'Clark is trying to steal Lana' glance he had seen earlier in the year, but still a secretive look of some sort.  
  
As quickly as it had started, it was over and Lana returned her attention to Whitney. "Sure, I'll, uh, bring the truck around."  
  
Whitney fished in his pocket for his keys. "Okay, try not to get too wet."  
  
"I'll try." Then Lana headed to the door, pulling her light spring jacket off as she went. When she reached the door, she turned and gave a quick wave before stretching the jacket above her head and running out into the rain.  
  
With a sigh, Whitney began. "You and I have had a weird year. I started out thinking you just wanted to steal Lana." Then Whitney gave a quick apologetic shrug of his shoulders. "I'm not trying to make excuses, but . . . I did some things I'm not proud of. I'm sorry, Clark."  
  
Clark reached out his right hand and grasped Whitney's. "I appreciate that."  
  
Whitney took a deep breath to prepare himself. "Listen, Clark . . . there's something I want to ask you. A favor."  
  
Clark was a little surprised. He hadn't talked to her about it, but assumed Lana had told Whitney about her and Lex. He and Whitney had never been particularly close, so he wasn't sure what sort of a favor Whitney would want from him. Cautiously, he responded with a simple, "Okay."  
  
"Lana's not sure how she feels about our relationship right now. But I am. I need you to look after her until I get back."  
  
Clark was suddenly very surprised. How could they have been back from their time travel adventure for a week without Lana explaining things to Whitney? Okay, maybe not explaining about the return of her long dead parents. Or even about her new nanobot 'gifts'. But surely she would have explained about her relationship with Lex. He knew she had even been spending the nights at the mansion rather than at Nell's place since their return. He wasn't sure how she had managed that without letting Nell in on at least some of their secrets. But he had never dreamed she hadn't come clean with Whitney about her relationship with Lex.  
  
All Clark could hope was Lana knew what she was doing and what she wanted out of her relationships with Whitney and Lex and didn't screw everything up. Suddenly, Clark wished Lana hadn't left him in the middle of things. "I really don't know what to say . . ."  
  
Whitney gave him an earnest stare. "Say yes."  
  
"Okay."  
  
"Clark?"  
  
"I promise." To himself, Clark added, 'I promise to talk to Lana and ask her why the fuck she left me stuck in the middle of her mess.' Leaving him in the middle would have been okay if it had been Clark and Lana who had fallen in love back in Rome. But it had been Lana and Lex. Not Lana and Clark.  
  
The conversation was interrupted by a horn honking. Whitney and Clark looked out at see Lana waiting outside in the parked truck. As she waved to Whitney to join her, Clark was seriously tempted to run out there in speed mode and shake some sense into her. But he quickly decided to focus his attention on Chloe, Lana was capable of digging her way out of her own mess.  
  
Abruptly, Clark felt Whitney clap him on the shoulder and say a quick, "Thanks."  
  
As he watched Whitney walk off in a much better mood, Clark called out. "Good luck."  
  
Clark moved to the doorway and watched as Whitney ran through the rain to the truck. Lana slid from the driver's seat to the passenger seat and while Whitney was opening the door, she mouthed a silent 'Sorry' towards Clark. Clark tried to put a whole 'You need to tell Whitney the truth' message in his return stare. Once Whitney was seated in the cab, Clark raised his hand in a farewell wave.  
  
As the truck was pulling away, Chloe walked up and wrapped an arm around Clark's waist. "What was that all about?" she asked as they watched the tail lights slowly fade into the rain.  
  
Clark let out a sigh. "Did you know Lana hasn't told Whitney about Lex yet?"  
  
Chloe shook her head. "I knew she hadn't as of a couple of days ago when I last really talked to her. I told her she needed to just do it. The longer she waits, the harder it will become. And at some point it may screw everything up between her and Lex."  
  
For a couple more minutes, they just stood there staring out into the rain lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Clark could faintly hear the band starting to warm up and knew it was time to put thoughts of Lana, Lex, and Whitney away. This was a special night for him and Chloe.  
  
Turning to Chloe, he asked, "Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?"  
  
Clark offered his arm as he turned in the direction of the gym.  
  
As she took his arm, she answered, "Yeah, but frequent reminders are always appreciated."  
  
-------------------------------  
  
The storm front was looking steadily worse and the wind gusts were approaching forty miles an hour as Martha struggled to get the last of the hanging pots down from its hook above the railing of the porch.  
  
"Martha, leave it," Jonathan nearly shouted to be heard over the howling wind. "The radio says funnels have been sighted only two miles south of here. We need to get to the storm cellar. Now."  
  
Juggling the big emergency lantern and the radio in one hand, Jonathan tugged at Martha with his other.  
  
Running across the yard, Martha shouted. "What about Clark?"  
  
"I'm sure he is fine. The school is not going to take any risks and the students are probably already in protected areas. Besides, it's Clark. He will be fine."  
  
As they approached the storm cellar Jonathan spotted one of its doors banging loosely in the wind. That wasn't right. They always keep the doors locked because of the spaceship and he had the key to the padlock in his pocket. Normally, he would have insisted Martha go first into the safety of the cellar, but his time he led the way, turning the battery- powered lantern on and holding it high as he descended the stairs.  
  
Before he had reached the bottom, he could see another light bouncing erratically around off of the shelf-lined walls. Someone else was down there. But with tornadoes rampaging around the immediate area, they had no choice but to proceed on down.  
  
Just as Jonathan reached the bottom of the stairs the noise and buffeting of the wind dropped noticeably as Martha managed to pull both of the heavy doors closed. Looking out across the floor, the first thing he saw was the metallic gleam of the spaceship under the bright light, a metallic gleam he shouldn't be seeing unless someone had pulled back the old tarp he always used to hide the ship from casual notice. Once his eyes had adjusted slightly to the general darkness of the cellar, Jonathan realized the lights he was seeing were coming from floodlights mounted on top of what looked like a professional caliber video camera, one of the big ones meant to be used from on top of the shoulder.  
  
"Who the fuck are you?" bellowed Jonathan in a rage at this man who was invading the family's most carefully guarded secrets.  
  
As Martha reached the bottom of the stairs, Jonathan handed her the lantern before reaching for an old two-by-four lying conveniently at hand and then starting to head towards the other man without a clear idea how he was going to proceed other than he knew he had to prevent a videotape of the ship from ever leaving this cellar.  
  
Jonathan was so focused on the other man, he barely noticed how the wind and noise seemed to pick up for a few seconds as though the storm had momentarily torn loose one of the doors again.  
  
Almost reaching the other man, Jonathan once more yelled out asking who he was.  
  
Roger Nixon lowered the camera at the approach of the large farmer, but had a difficult time drawing his eyes away from the captivating lines of the spaceship. Finally, he looked up at the towering farmer with the raised wooden club.  
  
"I am Roger Nixon with the Metropolis Inquisitor. People have the right to know about your son and about what you have hidden here in your storm cellar."  
  
"You have no right to invade the privacy of my family. You are going to destroy all of our lives," screamed Jonathan in return.  
  
As Jonathan paused, a calm, loud voice called out from the stairway. "Mr. Kent, let me handle this." The two men turned towards this new male voice and watched Lex Luthor stepped down into the beam of light from Martha's lantern.  
  
"Roger, you shouldn't have stolen the disk from my office. You must have known I would notice it was missing before too long. And you were the only person in there since I last saw it. Give the disk and the videotape to Mr. Kent and you may just survive the stupid things you are doing."  
  
Nixon pulled the disk out of his pocket. "Give up this disk? Never. The disk and the video are all I need to make my fortune. Do you know how much the networks will pay for proof aliens are real and living among us?"  
  
Suddenly, as he was speaking, the disk jerked out of Nixon's hand as though some powerful invisible giant had grabbed it. As he watched, the disk stopped in mid-air and just hovered. Very slowly the disk started to rotate as though to properly align with the mating cavity in the surface of the ship.  
  
Before Nixon could see what was going to happen next, Jonathan grabbed the camera and tried to rip it from Nixon's shoulder. As the two men fought for control of the camera, Lex walked passed them, seemingly drawn to the disk on which the inscribed symbols were starting to glow a brilliant incandescent white.  
  
Jonathan and Nixon continued struggling over the camera and their actions were slowly forcing them closer to the stairwell. Martha had to move to the side of the chamber with her back against a row of shelves containing canned tomatoes to keep from being caught up in the battle.  
  
Abruptly, a lucky blow from Nixon caught Jonathan on the chin and knocked him back onto his butt. By the time Jonathan was back on his feet, Nixon with his video camera had disappeared up the stairs and out into the storm.  
  
"Jonathan!" screamed Martha.  
  
Jonathan spared a single moment to look back at his wife of twenty years. "I have to get that tape."  
  
Then he raced up the stairs after the other man and, as he passed out into the night, he slammed the doors back shut returning the cellar to relative quiet.  
  
Martha choked back a sob as she turned her attention towards Lex and the ship. She was just in time to see the disk slowly, majestically descend down into the mating slot in the ship.  
  
When the disk slipped home, an incredibly powerful beam of white light shot straight up out of the surface of the disk. Unfortunately for Lex, he had been leaning over the spaceship watching the whole process and the beam of light struck him directly in the face.  
  
For an instant it felt like he was back in the arena in Rome experiencing all of Chloe's thousand of years of memories trying to jam into his brain at the same time. Only this time it was even worse. The memories and symbols being forced into his mind were mostly alien, never intended for a human brain. Occasionally the visions and memories were from earth, but the vast majority were of truly alien landscapes and cities. And the symbols, they came faster and faster while becoming increasingly complex. In a matter of seconds, it felt like his head was exploding and Lex started to scream in agony.  
  
Martha watched as Lex was lifted completely clear of the ground, the power of the pulsating white beam alone enough to suspend him in mid-air. On and on Lex's screaming went as the light battered against his face. Just something about the way the beam pulsated made Martha think it was being used to transfer untold quantities of information into Lex's head rather than being a simple destructive force. But as Lex continued to scream in agony, it was obvious this massive stream of data was not intended for a human mind or body.  
  
After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only fifteen seconds, Lex's screams ended as he slipped into unconsciousness. But still the powerful white beam did not abate only continued to pour endlessly into his face. Finally, after at least two minutes, the light cut off as though a light switch had been flipped and Lex's body dropped to the floor. In the position he happened to land, his face was turned towards Martha and she was shocked to see the uniform, unblinking white orbs where his eyes should have been.  
  
She had only a moment to stare at Lex before her attention was drawn to the ship. A loud, low frequency, bowel rattling hum was coming from it as the countless symbols on its surface started to glow white-hot matching the original display put forth by the symbols on the disk.  
  
When the sound and the light from the ship seemed to reach an unbearable level, a pulsing wave of energy shot out of the ship in all directions knocking Martha from her feet and shattering most of the glass jars filled with tomatoes. As the red contents of the jars flooded down and across the floor, the ship lifted off of the floor on which it had been resting for the past thirteen years. At a height of three feet, it paused for several seconds as though planning it next action, then it shot straight up at a speed no eye could have followed, except maybe Clark's.  
  
The one foot thick reinforced concrete roof of the storm cellar in no way slowed the ship as it shot up into the storm filled sky. But the shockwave caused by its passage did momentarily stun Martha Kent. After a few seconds, she had regained enough of her wits to crawl over to Lex's body. She found a weak pulse, but the solid white remains of his eyes continued to stare blindly in the direction his head happened to be pointing.  
  
Almost falling into shock herself at the enormity of the events, she finally thought to pull her cell phone out of her pocket and dial Clark's number.  
  
----------------------------------------  
  
The rain grew steadily heavier as Whitney drove from Smallville High on the north side of the town to the bus depot located in the extreme southeast corner of town, almost out in the country. The bus depot in the good old days had been located on Main Street only three blocks from the courthouse, but too many well-respected citizens complained it attracted the wrong type of crowd. Eventually, the city council was persuaded to force the bus line owners to move to the current remote, highly inconvenient location.  
  
Lana knew she only had a few minutes left to explain the real situation between them and her new relationship with Lex, but was still managing to procrastinate because Whitney needed to focus on his driving. God, why couldn't she be more like Lex and just come out and say it. Say the simple words. 'I have met someone else. I won't be waiting for your return.' Twelve words, that's all it would take to get things moving forward, as they must.  
  
Lana was jarred from her thoughts by Whitney asking her to turn on the radio and find some local weather. The rain was finally easing up, but the sky ahead was taking on a very scary shade of green. A shade of green he had never quite seen before, but knew was the color associated with tornadoes.  
  
Lana had her head down and was fiddling with the radio when the giant eight by ten piece of sheet metal came careening in out of nowhere to hit the front of the truck. In surprise, Whitney jerked the steering wheel hard to the right and on the rain-slick road, the truck spun out of control. The truck managed two complete three hundred and sixty degree spins before leaving the road and slamming nose first into the ditch with sufficient force to set off both front seat airbags.  
  
The sudden stop and airbag explosion momentarily knocked both Whitney and Lana unconscious. Lana's 'bots brought her back around in exactly four seconds, but by then it was too late. The large 'force four' tornado which had been forming in the clouds directly over their heads had dropped its first funnel down to the ground directly on their position.  
  
As Lana struggled to shake off the effects of the crash, the truck began to shake violently and then the front and back windows exploded outward from the force of the vacuum. Lana had only a moment to glance over at Whitney's body slumped over the steering wheel before she was forced to close her eyes against the grit-filled, three hundred mile per hour wind.  
  
At least they were both wearing their seatbelts which she thought would hold them in the truck until the tornado had moved on, but then the shaking of the truck changed significantly in pitch. She realized the truck had been lifted into the air by the high velocity winds just as the truck began to pitch and tumble in a most nauseating way about all three axes.  
  
She slammed around the cab and knew the seatbelts wouldn't hold long under this kind of abuse. She briefly wished Clark and his incredible strength were here, but he wasn't, and it was up to her to get them out of this alive. She remembered some of the stories Chloe had told and knew even a fall from hundreds of feet wouldn't kill her nanobot enhanced body. But a fall like that would certainly kill Whitney. She also knew, from the data Chloe had downloaded to her, how to introduce her 'bots into someone else's body. If she could do that with Whitney and then keep their bodies in physical contact, she should be able to get him through this alive, too.  
  
The first thing she needed was some way to cut them to transfer the seed 'bots which would multiply until they complete saturated Whitney's body. However, finding something in a madly tumbling truck cab was impossibly difficult, while simultaneously keeping her left hand firmly gripped in Whitney's so they wouldn't get separated, if one of their belts failed. Momentarily she managed to catch the strap of her purse that had been down on the floor of the pickup and which she knew had a nail file that would do the trick. But then the horrific wind caught the bag and ripped it from her grasp with so much force, her right wrist was shattered when it slammed into the door frame.  
  
She gasped in pain before the 'bots blocked her brain's pain receptors and then flashed through her mind the message that her damaged wrist would be repaired in 7.3 seconds. However they might not have 7.3 more seconds as she increased the grip her left hand was maintaining on Whitney's unconscious hand.  
  
Abruptly, the battered remains of the truck was tossed clear of the main body of the tornado and it began to plummet towards the ground. At least the speed at which it was tumbling had slowed and the wind had died down to where Lana could open her eyes, not that seeing they were falling from over three hundred feet was in any way a comforting sight.  
  
Quickly, Lana let go of Whitney and used her good hand to release her seatbelt buckle. At this point the only chance she saw for Whitney was if she could get her body wrapped about his and hope the impact would rip open both of their bodies in such a way she could pass her life saving 'bots to him.  
  
But just as she had her hands occupied with her seatbelt, the last strands of Whitney's belt tore loose and his inert body tumbled through the opening where the driver's door had once been. Lana managed to snag his ankle, but without her belt to restrain her, she too was pulled from the tumbling wreckage of the truck.  
  
What a way to end a lousy day, thought Lana, freefalling without a parachute, in a tornado, while holding on to your ex-boyfriend's ankle. As the ground seemed to race up towards them, she closed her eyes and thought, 'At least it couldn't get any worse.' But she was wrong.  
  
Their bodies slammed into the ground in a slightly sloping field and Whitney's ankle was ripped from her grasp. As they tumbled to a halt their bodies were just over ten feet apart. Lana's brain was barely functioning as a calm voice seemed to be telling her it would be twenty seven seconds until enough of her functions would be restored to allow her to move. However during those twenty seven seconds the wreckage of the truck landed up the hill above them and by the time it had tumble to a halt, the six hundred pound engine block had come to a rest across Lana's legs, pinning her to the spot.  
  
By the time the nanobot countdown had gone from twenty seven to zero, her head had cleared and she could open her eyes to look around. She was lying on her back in the middle of a freshly sprouted cornfield. She could see Whitney's body lying about ten feet away. She tried to move towards him and then realized she couldn't move her legs. Looking down her body she saw the way the engine was crushing her legs and the remainder of the truck was scattered in pieces up the gentle incline of the field. Seeing the wreckage, for an instant all she could think was how glad she was Whitney had wanted to drive his truck one last time or it would have been Libby scattered all over the hillside.  
  
Forcing her attention back to the current situation, Lana managed to rise to a sitting position and tried to push against the engine, but she didn't have the strength or leverage to so much as budge it. Slumping back to the ground, she almost began to cry. She had at most three minutes and forty seven seconds to reach Whitney if she was going to save him and at the moment the ten feet separating them might as well be a million miles.  
  
For a couple of seconds she just lay there trying to imagine what she could have done differently, but finally started to sweep her hands about her and up and down her body looking for anything that could help her or at least spark an idea. As she ran her hands down her body, she finally felt the small cigar-shaped tube tucked in her back pant's pocket, the special custom cell phone Chloe had given each of them that first night after their return through the time machine. Quickly, she pulled it from her pocket and pressed the recessed button to turn it on. After an incredibly long five seconds, the phone chimed to indicate it was up and functioning properly.  
  
As soon as the chime ended, Lana quietly and clearly said, "Call Clark."  
  
----------------------------------------------------------------  
  
It was the first slow dance and Chloe and Clark were out in the center of the floor with their bodies pressed together as tight as humanly possible. To an outside observer they were just slowly swaying to the music, but Chloe could feel Clark's arousal and her own body's reaction.  
  
"Clark," she whispered knowing he would be able to hear her, even with the band and all of the other noise. "I never thought this day would finally arrive. For me it has been one thousand nine hundred sixty five years, or put another way seven hundred seventeen thousand days that I have had to wait since you first asked me. But right this minute, it all feels worth it. Clark, I love you."  
  
Clark pulled one of his hands from where it had been resting on her back and used it to raise her head for a long, slow kiss. When the kiss ended, Clark responded, "I love you, too."  
  
They had just started a second passionate kiss when abruptly the band stopped playing and one of the dance chaperones stepped up to the microphone.  
  
"May I have your attention please! Several tornadoes have been reported on the south side of town. None are in the immediate area, but as a precaution everyone needs to move to the storm shelters. The weather bureau says this front should be past Smallville in forty five minutes and hopefully we will be able to continue the dance then. Please use the exits on the east side of the gym. Thank you."  
  
When the speaker finished, Clark looked down at Chloe. "I need to go."  
  
"Go where, Clark? I am sure your parents have been watching the weather and are in their storm cellar."  
  
"Lana."  
  
"Lana is a big girl now. She is quite capable of riding out a tornado in safety. If not, well, I have been through worse and survived, she will too."  
  
Clark thought about it for a second and knew Chloe was right, there was nothing immediate he needed to do and he should just remember this night was for Chloe and him.  
  
Clark nodded and then with a grin said, "I seem to remember a couple of dark, hidden corners down in the storm shelter. Let's see if we can find a quiet spot for ourselves."  
  
Chloe returned his grin and grabbing his hand dragged him into crowd heading for the shelter.  
  
The closer they got to the shelter the more cell phones belonging to other students they heard starting to ring. Just as they set foot in the shelter, Clark's phone joined in. Being in a great mood at the thought of finding a secluded corner to make out, Clark pulled out his own special cylindrical cell phone and answered it with a cheery, "Hey, this is Clark."  
  
Chloe glanced up at his face as he answered and watched the emotions roll across it. Happiness. Shock. Then finally, fear.  
  
To be continued. 


	5. Biological Families Chapter 5

Biological Families  
  
Author: duane at duaneaakre dot com  
  
Disclaimer: As always I own nothing. Well I own a house, two cars, a pair of jetskis, and a lot of other junk, but none of these characters.  
  
Story Rating: R [The story may drift into the HBO range rather than stay in the WB range, so to be on the safe side, I am rating this R.]  
  
Chapter 5  
  
Clark disconnected the call, grabbed Chloe's hand, and started working his way against the flow of students entering the storm shelter.  
  
"Clark, what is it?"  
  
"That was my Mom. She is in the storm cellar back home. Lex is there. Something happened with 'you know what' and Lex was hurt. Bad. We have to go."  
  
Before Chloe could ask any more questions, Clark had finally bulled his way through the press of bodies at the door and broke into a run. It was all she could do to keep up. One of the chaperones was shouting at them to get back to the shelter as Clark pulled her around the corner. Chloe barely had time to register that this hallway was vacant before Clark swept her up into his arms and accelerated into speed mode.  
  
The night they had returned from ancient Rome Clark had similarly gone into speed mode during the trek to her apartment near Metropolis University. But it had been nothing like this, thought Chloe. Obviously, that time he had been holding his speed down for her comfort, but not this time. She remembered Clark explaining when he first revealed his secrets back in the massage room in the baths in ancient Tolosa that he could run the five miles from the farm to the school in fourteen seconds. Either the events in Rome had greatly increased his abilities or Clark was very, very scared, as according to her 'bot system exactly 0.45 seconds passed from the moment he picked her up until he set her on her feet outside the entrance to the storm cellar. Her 'bots instantly did the math and she tried to understand how Clark could run at 40,000 miles per hour without creating an incredible sonic boom or burning off all of their clothes due to friction. Apparently his body must put out some kind of barrier to protect anything close to him. Or perhaps he was shifting slightly out-of-phase with the rest of the world so there was minimal interaction.  
  
These thoughts ran through her head in the couple of seconds it took for her eyes to clear and adjust to the fading light after the abrupt transition from the well-lit school. Meanwhile Clark had already wrenched open one of the cellar doors and disappeared down the stairs. Well, in his rush he had ripped the door from its hinges and sent it flying into the woods. Not that anyone would notice thought Chloe, next to the gaping ten foot diameter hole in the cellar's roof and the large chunks of concrete scattered for thirty feet in every direction. She could just make out a faint light coming from the large hole as she ran to the entrance and followed Clark down the stairs.  
  
When she reached the bottom of the stairs in the faint light from the lantern it looked like a bomb had gone off. Shattered glass jars and overturned shelves were everywhere. Between the debris from the ceiling and the gallons of spilt tomatoes, the floor was a reddish, muddy mess. The only thing missing from this disaster was the spaceship. Somehow it must have been activated and then departed straight up through the roof. 'I wondered where it went?' thought Chloe as she made her way across to where Martha and Clark were crouched over Lex's body.  
  
"When we came out to the cellar because of the reports of tornadoes, we found a reporter with a video camera already down here," Martha was explaining to Clark as Chloe walked up. "Your father started screaming at him when suddenly Lex showed up. Apparently the reporter stole a disk which was part of the ship from Lex and also found out from him where the ship was hidden. The reporter pulled the disk from his pocket and then, I guess, its proximity with the ship caused the disk to move to its slot in the body of its own volition. At the same time your Dad tried to get the camera away from the reporter and they started to fight. Jonathan chased the reporter out into the storm just before the disk seated itself home in the ship and then started to emit a massive beam of light which struck Lex directly in the face. Lex started to scream as the light continued to pound into his face. Eventually Lex passed out, but the beam just went on and on, even lifting him completely off of the floor with its power. Finally, after what seemed like forever, the beam turned off and Lex dropped to the ground and his eyes were all white like you see them now. Then the ship lifted off from the ground and shot straight up into the night."  
  
Martha was starting to sob. "Your father disappeared into the storm and I have no idea where he is. Lex is unconscious and barely breathing. The spaceship is gone. I didn't know what to do but call you."  
  
Clark pulled his Mom into his arms and started to rock her. "Everything is going to be okay. We'll find Dad."  
  
Chloe stepped forward. "Let me at Lex." With the confidence of one who had been through a lot worse, she added. "I am sure I can fix him right up."  
  
Martha didn't understand what Chloe thought she could do, but she let Clark draw her away to give Chloe room to work.  
  
Clark was more worried about his missing father and the shock his mother was going through than about Lex's condition. Lana had been dead back at the arena when Chloe had revived her and Lex was merely hurt and unconscious. Plus Lex already had an inert set of Chloe's 'bots in his body, so she should have him cured in a matter of seconds. Then he was going to have to explain even more of the truth to his mother so she could understand what was going on. They had admitted Chloe was thousands of years old, but had not explained her ability to introduce her nanobots into other people's bodies and then use them to heal their injuries.  
  
As he watched, Chloe knelt down beside Lex's body and then reached out her right hand to rest it on his exposed cheek. After less than a second, she suddenly jerked her hand away and fell back onto her butt. Holding her violently shaking right hand aloft, she started to shimmy along the floor as though to put as much distance between Lex and herself as possible.  
  
Clark had never seen such a look of terror on Chloe's face as she was showing now. Even after her back was against the wall, her legs continued to move as if to force her body through the wall itself.  
  
Clark let go of his mother and raced over to Chloe in a millisecond. "Chloe, what is it? What's wrong?"  
  
Through clenched teeth that indicated she was in massive pain, Chloe answered. "There is something alien in Lex's 'bot system and now it has jumped into mine. It is trying to take control of my 'bots and my mind. I am fighting it, but it is very strong. I don't think I have much time before it is going to overwhelm my defenses. There is some information I have gotten from it you are going to need to save Lex and me."  
  
Clark listened to her in shock as he realized with the way her body was starting to shake and shudder all over, he might be losing her forever. Just as she was about to give him the vital information, Clark's phone started to shrill. And not just from an ordinary incoming call, he could ignore. This was the emergency signal only one of Chloe's 'special' phones could send. Since Lex and Chloe were here, it could only be from Lana, Lana's parents, or Lex's Mom.  
  
Clark jerked his phone from his pocket and almost yelled "What?" into it.  
  
"It's Lana. I need your help. It's an emergency."  
  
"I am in the middle of an emergency here, too. It's going to have to wait."  
  
"Whitney's dead." Clark could hear Lana crying into the phone. "I am trapped under the wreckage of the truck and can't reach him. If I can't get to him within the next two minutes, it will be too late."  
  
Clark looked at the unconscious Lex and felt Chloe's body continue to shudder in his arms.  
  
"Where are you?"  
  
"We were on Bedford Road about a mile north of the bus depot when the truck was sucked up into the tornado. I am now in a cornfield, it has to be in the general area."  
  
"I'll find you. I'll be there as soon as I can." Then without even saying goodbye, Clark cut the connection and turned his attention back to Chloe.  
  
"Chloe, what is it you need to tell me?"  
  
"Clark, don't let Lana touch Lex or me, or she will be infected too. Tons of images and memories have been downloaded into my nanobot system. Most of them are alien, but a few of them are normal. I think I have identified a device in some of the memories that will reverse the effect. It is about the size of a paperback book, silver metallic in color like the ship, and covered with the alien symbols. In the only memory I have of it on Earth, a Major in a German Luftwaffe uniform is handing it to a man wearing a fedora hat, khaki shirt and tie, and a brown tweed jacket whom the Major refers to in English as 'Dr. Jones'. In the background I can see an Olympic flag and I can hear Hitler's voice booming though the stadium. This memory has to be from the opening ceremonies of the Olympics in Berlin on August 1st, 1936."  
  
At this point Chloe let out a small scream and started to shake even harder. Finally, after a few seconds she was able to continue. "The prototype time machine is still functional at my lab. Sam knows how to run it. Oh, also, I have been working with a Dr. Virgil Swann in New York on translating the symbols ever since I intercepted some signals from outer space the same day you arrived. He may be able to help."  
  
Chloe gritted her teeth in pain again for a few seconds before she was able to continue. "Hurry, Clark. The portion of my 'bot system I still control estimates it is less than twenty minutes until it will be overwhelmed, Lex probably has longer since his system is mostly inert." Chloe tried to put on a brave smile. "Sorry our dance had to end this way."  
  
Then as Clark was forced to watch, Chloe's eyes rolled up into her head until only whites were showing, scarily similar to Lex, and she sagged unconscious with only an occasional random shutter stirring her suddenly lifeless body.  
  
Clark checked his watch and realized he had less than twenty seconds if he was going to reach Lana in time to save Whitney. He lowered Chloe to the filthy floor of the cellar and couldn't help but notice how her gown was a total ruin. He made himself a promise, when this was all over, he would see her in the true Roman version of this gown at some fantastic Hollywood party like she had suggested.  
  
After a quick kiss to Chloe's forehead, he stood and said, "Mom, take care of them. I have to go, but I will be back as soon as I can."  
  
Martha nodded, numb from all of the unbelievable events of the past few minutes, but Clark was already gone.  
  
-----------------------------------  
  
'Where was Clark?' thought Lana for the hundredth time as her internal clock counted down past the ten second mark before it would be too late to save Whitney. He had said he was in the middle of an emergency also before abruptly terminating their call. However she HAD explained Whitney was dead, so his emergency must be extremely urgent, if it took precedent over her own situation. Perhaps something had happened to Clark and he wasn't coming at all.  
  
Lana had just about resigned herself to losing Whitney and the need to change her focus to her own survival when the engine block which had been crushing her legs was suddenly gone and Clark was standing over her body.  
  
"Sorry," said Clark as he quickly pulled her damaged body over to Whitney. "You were over a mile and a half from where you said and it took longer to find you than I expected."  
  
From ten feet away and viewed from ground level, Whitney's body hadn't looked that bad, but up close, it was very apparent he was dead. He was lying face up; his pale green eyes open and staring vacantly up at the sky. His nose was broken and a trickle of blood had escaped from his mouth and ears. His arms and legs were all twisted at unnatural angles and were obviously broken in multiple places. And finally, several ribs were protruding from a large wound in his left side.  
  
Lana just stared for a second uncertain if she was really able to do anything, but the droning of her internal nanobot clock got her moving. "Clark, tear open the skin on my hand then see what you can do to straighten his arms and legs."  
  
Clark hated the thought of hurting this girl he at one time thought he loved, but knew the blood to blood contact was necessary if there was going to be a chance to save Whitney. Quickly, before he could let himself dwell on what he was doing, Clark dug his harder than steel fingernails into her palm and ripped open four deep gashes almost to the bone.  
  
Lana slapped her bleeding palm against the wound in Whitney's side. She was dimly aware of Clark working on his limbs, but almost her entire attention was focused on following the directions Chloe had downloaded to begin the nanobot transfer. As the millions of nanobots were forced from her bloodstream into Whitney's, it seemed like she could sense each individual nanobot going about the process of reproducing a copy of itself. Four times a second each nanobot created a duplicate. As a result the total number of 'bots in Whitney's body increased at a geometric rate. Millions, billions, trillions, and after four seconds, quadrillions of 'bots saturated every nook and cranny of his body. Once saturation was achieved, the 'bot system issued the command to switch the individual nanobots from reproduction to repair and the real work began.  
  
Once the 'bots where in place, she could call up a status of the damage and repairs with the merest thought. Thirty seven bones were fractured including cracks in his skull from the impact point in the back radiating almost all of the way around to his forehead in the front. Both lungs punctured. Spleen and liver ruptured. The aorta leading from the heart was torn. The list went on and on, but nothing impossible. The soft tissue damage was the fastest to repair while reknitting bones and replacing teeth were the most time consuming. 'How long?' she thought. And instantly the answer was returned; eighteen more seconds until the repairs would be complete.  
  
While she was forced to maintain physical contact with his body until the repairs were complete, Lana tried to decide what they would explain to Whitney. When he awoke out in a field among the scattered wreckage of his truck, what would he think? How could she explain why they were both unhurt? And what about Clark's sudden appearance? Should she divulge her miraculous new abilities?  
  
As Whitney's body was being repaired, so too was his brain. However one part of the repair process had always been beyond Chloe's control, and now also Lana's., as the 'bot system automatically tried to add a backup copy of Lana's memories to Whitney's mind. It was not quite as overwhelming as what Lex had experienced when Chloe's thousands and thousands of years of memories were crammed into his head in a matter of a few seconds. However the experience was very disconcerting as Whitney experienced many of the same memories he shared with Lana only from her perspective instead. And then there was the whole sequence of memories that seemed like some combination of dream and nightmare, memories of chariot races, crucifixions, barbaric feasts, and being killed by men in Roman soldier uniforms throwing spears while tied to a post in the center of a giant arena filled with a screaming crowd. But most disconcerting of all were the numerous memories of Lex Luthor, and the undeniable intensity of Lana's feelings for him. All of her memories of Whitney seemed to pale to black and white next to the vibrant hues of her memories of Lex.  
  
After what seemed like an eternity, but was only the eighteen seconds her 'bot system had originally stated, Lana knew Whitney's wounds were repaired and his body was in the best physical condition possible. She removed her hand from the site of his formerly protruding ribs and reached up to sweep away the strands of his blonde hair that had blown into his eyes.  
  
"Whitney, can you hear me?"  
  
Whitney slowly opened his eyes and stretched his body like after a good night's sleep before propping himself up on one elbow. "I had the strangest dream." Then his gaze took in Lana's shredded clothing, Clark and his destroyed tuxedo, and finally the wreckage of his truck. "It wasn't a dream, was it?"  
  
Lana shook her head understanding his confusion, as she too had experienced death and resurrection via the nanobots. She tried to find the right words to start an explanation. "I . . ."  
  
Abruptly Clark interrupted her. "Lex and Chloe's nanobot systems are under attack by something from my spaceship. I think if we can't find a way to stop it; it will kill them. From what Chloe said, we may have less than fifteen minutes."  
  
Whitney had been watching Lana's face and saw the way the color drained when Lex's name was mentioned. The strange memories he had experienced, which even now were rapidly fading, suddenly felt true.  
  
"No," whispered Lana as she suddenly understood what had delayed Clark. How would they be able to go on if they lost Lex and Chloe?  
  
"We have to get to Chloe's lab," stated Clark as he watched Lana's reaction. As she nodded slowly, Clark turned his attention to Whitney. "There is a lot we need to explain, but there just isn't time right now."  
  
Then Clark reached down a hand to each of them and hauled them to their feet. Enough of the cat was out of the bag with Whitney that Clark felt they were past the point of needing to be subtle and secretive. Besides, he had a feeling they might need Whitney's help, if he was willing, before this was situation was resolved. Therefore, feeling the press of time, without any warning Clark threw one of them over each shoulder and set off at super speed for Chloe's secret facility hidden under the long disused remains of the Creekside Foundry.  
  
It only took Clark a fraction of a second to reach the hidden entrance even with the burden of carrying Whitney and Lana and the zigzag route required to pass through the pseudo-minefield of meteor rocks in the area, a minefield mostly 'seeded' by Chloe to keep Clark and his x-ray vision clear of the area until after the Roman time loop was past. Reaching the entrance, Clark set the others back on their feet and while they were recovering from the shock of traveling in speed mode, he walked up to the concealed speaker and said, "Noblesse Oblige".  
  
As the concrete wall blocking the entrance rolled aside, Whitney and Lana walked up.  
  
"Interesting choice for a secret password, 'With rank comes obligations'," said Lana.  
  
Clark shrugged and then started to run into the facility at a normal pace. Over his shoulder he said. "Chloe's idea, since the events back in Rome and during the ensuing two thousand years she had to live through, she made the decision she should do more with her gifts than just drift along. I agree with her philosophy and this little password is one small additional way to remind ourselves of our goals."  
  
Clark had been to the facility several times before. Lana had never been there, but complete information on the facility had been included in the data Chloe had downloaded to her the previous Sunday evening after their return from Metropolis. Lana knew she could operate any piece of equipment in the facility or even run flat out like now without a single misstep even if she was blindfolded. It was left to Whitney to gaze about in amazement as they ran.  
  
"Clark, where are we going?" asked Lana.  
  
"To the prototype time machine," responded Clark. "Chloe was able discover an alien device, somehow related to the ship, which may be able to reverse what is happening to them. However the only time and place where she knows the location of the device is in the Olympic Stadium during the opening ceremonies for the 1936 Berlin Olympics. We are going to have to use the time machine to go back and retrieve the device."  
  
Lana nodded. "I know where it is. Go on ahead and find Sam. Whitney and I will meet you there. If we arrive first, I'll start setting up the machine."  
  
Clark blurred and was gone.  
  
Whitney ran along beside Lana trying to cope with all of the shocks he had received in the past five minutes. At the moment what was most in the forefront of his thoughts was the pace Lana was setting. He had run the 100m and 200m on the track team in the football off-season, at least until he had blown out his knee. Now he was trying to keep up with Lana and she was maintaining a pace that seemed almost as fast as his personal best. And she didn't even seem to be breathing hard. His knee felt better than it had at any time in the past seven months, but still his muscles were tightening up and his breath was becoming ragged. Suddenly, Lana slowed half a step and grabbed Whitney's hand.  
  
'Sorry about that,' thought Lana. 'I am still getting use to my abilities and forgot you might need a boost to keep up this pace.'  
  
As she said the words, Whitney's body suddenly seemed to feel twice as good and strong; it felt like the pace was no more than a slow jog which could be maintained indefinitely. Then Whitney realized she hadn't said the words aloud, but instead directly into his head.  
  
'What is going on?' thought Whitney towards Lana in return.  
  
'Super-brief version, I will go into details later. Clark is an alien who arrived on earth at the age of three in a tiny spaceship during the meteor shower. He is unbelievably strong and fast, well you got a first hand taste of that just now as he was able to run the six miles from the cornfield where we were to this facility under the old Creekside Foundry in under a second, even while carrying both of us.  
  
'Chloe was born over seventeen thousand years ago in a long-lost high tech civilization. She had experimental nanobots injected into her body just before the collapse of that civilization. These 'bots keep her forever sixteen and can almost instantly cure any injury.  
  
'I first found out their secrets when we were stranded by a time machine back in ancient Rome last Friday.'  
  
Whitney jumped in with a comment. 'So those memories of yours from ancient Rome were real?'  
  
'Yeah, including those of my death. It wasn't until Chloe healed my fatal injuries, that she revealed a few of her additional secrets.'  
  
Whitney thought about things for a second. 'Was I really dead back there in that cornfield?'  
  
'Fraid so, buckoo. Fortunately for you, after wearing that piece of meteor rock that killed my parents, who by the way are no longer dead, has apparently turned me into a borderline meteor freak. At least everyone else who has been healed by Chloe ends up with a passive nanobot system which is only active when Chloe touches them. I am the only one who has ever ended up with an active system; so I can heal people too. Generally, we can bring people back who haven't been dead for more than five minutes. It was scarily close with you as I was trapped under the wreckage of the truck and couldn't reach you. If Clark had gotten there only a few seconds later, well . . .'  
  
'Your parents are alive?'  
  
Without slacking her pace, Lana turned towards Whitney with a big grin. "Chloe used her time machine to snatch them off of Main Street a fraction of a second before the meteor would have hit. They have been staying with me at Lex's mansion for the past week."  
  
Whitney was about to ask about her relationship with Lex when their run abruptly ended at a heavy wooden door. The whole run had been so surreal. When Clark had mentioned Chloe's lab, Whitney expected some futuristic high- tech facility, but instead they had been running through something with a strangely Victorian feel like you would find in an old Jules Verne story or movie adaptation set back in the 1880's with lots of black painted iron, dark wood paneling, and red leather furniture. Now when Lana pushed open the door, it felt like they were entering the lab where Frankenstein's monster had been created. The room was filled with giant whining turbines, massive transformers, and even a few of those oversized Jacob's Ladders with crackling sparks climbing the two upright arms.  
  
Lana ran over to the control panel with Whitney hot on her heels. The control panel itself looked out of place with its modern style keyboards and bank of flat panel monitors. As Lana started throwing switches and typing commands in at the keyboard, she was quietly mumbling under her breathe.  
  
"The Berlin Olympics opening ceremony was on August 1st, 1936. The American team sailed from New York on July 15th on the SS Manhattan, so factoring in sailing time to Hamburg and then a couple days sightseeing by train, they should have arrived at the Olympic village about July 26th."  
  
"Ah, Lana, how do you know so much about the 1936 Olympics?" asked Whitney.  
  
"My nanobot memory system has effectively unlimited storage capacity. After we got back from ancient Rome, Chloe downloaded all the historical data she had about anything that might be useful. So I happen to know while the most famous member of the U.S. Olympic team was Jesse Owens, the team also had an additional 311 members plus a lot of coaches, trainers, physicians, and other friends and family members. Since we need to be at the Olympics and neither you nor Clark speaks German, I think the best idea is for us to blend in with the U.S. team. I want to get there a few days before the opening ceremony so we can scope things out."  
  
"Are you saying you speak German, now?" asked Whitney as the seemingly endless stream of shocks continued to roll over him.  
  
Lana looked at him and for a moment Whitney thought she almost felt like someone he no longer knew. "Another of Chloe's gifts. I can speak one hundred and seventy eight languages although a number of these are no longer in use. I think while we are touching, I can use my 'bots to real- time translate in your head, so you will be able to understand German and even speak it. Unfortunately, Clark doesn't have the 'bots in his body, so I can't help him there, and I probably can't be touching you the whole time either."  
  
"You keep talking like I am going with you. I don't have time to spend a week in 1936 Germany; I have to report to the Marines in three days."  
  
"Sorry, I forgot you are new to this whole time travel thing. We will be back five minutes after we leave regardless of how much time we spend back there."  
  
Just at that moment Clark seemed to appear out of nowhere with a very attractive woman in his arms. The woman looked to be in her upper twenties; about five foot four with long dark brown hair, blonde highlights, and dark green eyes. As Clark lowered her to her feet, he said. "We'll be back in five minutes or we will be dead."  
  
Lana looked at him. "Thanks for the help. I was just trying to convince Whitney to come with us; we may need an extra set of eyes and hands." Then Lana turned to the woman and extended her hand. "It is nice to finally meet you, too bad it couldn't be under better circumstance. I am Lana Lang and this is Whitney Fordman."  
  
The woman shook the offered hand. "Samantha Wingate. Nice to meet you, too. Clark explained the time crunch, let's get straight to it."  
  
Lana nodded. "I have the system charging up and it should be ready in two minutes. I have set the portal to open in the Olympic village an hour before dawn on July 26th which is my best guess for when the U.S. team will arrive and hopefully we can blend in. That will give us seven days to figure out what is going on and hopefully be all set to retrieve the device during the opening ceremonies."  
  
"Okay," said Sam as she walked over to a storage cabinet behind the control console. After she had opened it, she retrieved a small wooden box and returned to the others.  
  
After she opened the box, the others could see it was filled with cylindrical metallic tubes that looked just like the special cell phones Clark and Lana were carrying.  
  
"Your cell phones will send a retrieval signal to open a portal home by activating them and then saying 'Back to the Future'. Don't laugh at me; the code phrase was Chloe's idea. Since they don't have cell phone service back there, your phones will default to a walkie-talkie mode with a range of about five miles. The nanotechnology batteries will last a month on a single charge, so that shouldn't be an issue. I suggest each of you grab several spares and stash them once you are back there in case your primary one is lost or destroyed."  
  
Clark grabbed several from the box and then looked at Whitney. "Are you in or out?"  
  
Whitney realized it was just this kind of situation, helping people in need that was the reason he was joining the Marines. And this wasn't just to help total strangers, but people he actually knew. Chloe was a friend. Lex didn't exactly fall in the friend category, particularly now that he knew of his relationship with Lana, but Lex did make it possible for Whitney to play with the Sharks for his Dad and he owed him for that. Plus on a more personal side, this would give him another week with Lana to try to turn her back around in his direction.  
  
Whitney took a deep breath. "I'm in. Hell, I have already died today; this is all just bonus time anyway."  
  
Sam handed him several of the devices and then turn the box to Lana.  
  
"Sam, can you set up our return with an intermediate stop in New York City two days ago?" asked Clark. "Chloe said she has been working with a Dr. Swann there at translating the alien symbols and we may need his help figuring out how the device works before we return here."  
  
Sam nodded. "I have worked with Virgil in the past. I can set it up to send you straight to his observatory. His personal offices and living quarters are on the top floor." Then she gestured to the green rectangular doorway that was forming out in the center of the lab. "Is everyone ready to go?"  
  
Whitney looked at this strange apparition and then back to Clark and Lana. "You mean right this minute? Dressed like this?"  
  
Clark shrugged and started walking to the portal. "We are out of time. We will improvise when we get back to 1936 and have more time."  
  
Lana took Whitney's hand. "Come on. It will be okay."  
  
Following Clark's lead, they followed him through the device. It was just like stepping through a doorway although they almost stumbled over Clark's body in the darkness on the other side.  
  
"Clark!" exclaimed Whitney, as he helped pull him back to his feet.  
  
"I'm okay. Passing through the device affects me more than anyone else. I will be fine in a minute."  
  
The device had dumped them out in a shadowy area between two buildings. As they made their way out of the alley, they found themselves on a well-lit central boulevard, a street heavily festooned with giant red banners emblazed with the black and white Swastika. They were really there, in the heart of Nazi Germany. Two of them looked like they had come straight from a tornado and one was wearing a filthy, torn tuxedo. No identification papers. No money. No Chloe with her thousands of years of practical experience and no Lex with his abilities for dealing with powerful men. Just three Smallville teenagers with a burning need to find a secret piece of alien technology to save their friends.  
  
To be continued.  
  
Author's Note: Any thoughts about 'Dr. Jones'? 


	6. Biological Families Chapter 6

Biological Families

Author: duane at duaneaakre dot com

Disclaimer: As always I own nothing. Well I own a house, two cars, a pair of jetskis, and a lot of other junk, but none of these characters.

Story Rating: R [The story may drift into the HBO range rather than stay in the WB range, so to be on the safe side, I am rating this R.]

Chapter 6

A small park-like area was located almost directly across from where they had entered the main boulevard. Several benches were arranged under streetlamps along the street side edge of a small pond. There wasn't much they could do to start working towards their goal until after dawn when the Olympic village would start coming to life, so they crossed the street and slouched down together on one of the benches.

"Oh, if feels good to be able to finally stop for a minute and catch my breath," said Lana, not that any of these three were physically tired due to their special gifts. But they had all been through some extremely intense moments in the past fifteen minutes; fifteen minutes that had felt like fifteen hours.

After a pause of a few seconds where neither of the guys responded, Lana continued. "Okay, Clark, we have some time now. What exactly happened to Lex and Chloe?"

Clark nodded his agreement that it was finally time to tell what he knew in detail so they could start planning their best course of action. "Because of the storm, my Mom and Dad went out to the storm cellar where we keep the spaceship. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, they found a reporter with a camera videoing the ship. My Mom didn't say, but I think it was Roger Nixon of the Inquisitor. I had a run-in with him out in the woods at the farm last Saturday. I tried to scare him off, but I guess it didn't last.

"Apparently, my Dad got very upset; well you know how he gets when he is pissed off. They were shouting at each other when Lex suddenly showed up. According to my Mom, Lex said the reporter had stolen from his office a disk that is part of the ship."

"I remember," agreed Lana. "Lex showed it to me this afternoon just before I left to pick up Whitney. It was metallic silver with several unusual symbols. They were unlike anything I have ever seen. And unlike any of the written languages Chloe downloaded to my memory."

"Anyway," continued Clark. "The reporter pulled the disk from a pocket and then it floated out of his hand and towards the ship. While that was happening, my Dad and the reporter started fighting and after a few seconds my Dad chased him up the stairs and out into the storm. Lex walked over to the ship just as the disk seated home. My Mom said a powerful beam of light shot out of the disk and struck Lex directly in the face."

Lana flinched at these words. Clark had said Lex and Chloe were hurt before their mad dash to Chloe's lab and then on through the time machine, but it was still scary to hear the actual words.

Barely whispering, Lana said. "Go on, Clark."

Clark drew a deep breath and reached over to clasp Lana's hand. "The beam of light played over his face for several minutes. At first my Mom said Lex was screaming like he was in serious pain, then he finally passed out. Apparently the beam was so intense; it lifted Lex off his feet and held him suspended in mid-air. From what Chloe said later, I don't think it was just a bright beam of light. It seems to me it was some kind of data transfer, but it was intended for me and not a normal human. Lex's brain and nanobot system were overloaded and he has gone into shock."

"Then what happened?"

"When the beam of light finally ended, Lex's body slumped to the ground. Next the spaceship powered up and took off. It went straight up through the ceiling of the cellar. That's when Mom called me at the dance."

"You said Chloe was hurt, too?" asked Lana.

"When she and I got there, we didn't fully understand what had happened to Lex. She touched him to heal him and whatever had attacked him through the beam of light jumped to Chloe's 'bot system as well. She immediately started to shake violently. She said something from the ship was trying to gain control of her nanobot system and it was very powerful. In less than a minute she was unconscious too. Or at least she looked unconscious, but maybe she just needed to focus her full attention on fighting off this invader. Before she passed out she said she thought she had less than fifteen minutes before her defenses would be overwhelmed."

For a minute Lana just sat there. Chloe had spent thousands of years interacting with her 'bot system until it was just as much a natural part of her as her hands or her eyes. Lana had been in awe the first time they had mind-linked on Sunday night at Chloe's house. Lana had had a couple of days to experience her own nanobot system by then, but had never dreamed of some of the abilities of the system Chloe had shown her. If this alien invader could override all of the safety features built into the system and take control away from Chloe, she shuddered to think how she would cope in the same situation. If Chloe thought she would only survive fifteen minutes, how long would she have survived? Fifteen seconds?

Finally Lana realized her thoughts were heading down a negative path. If they were going to save Lex and Chloe, she needed to start thinking more constructively.

"Clark, did Chloe give any more definitive clues? Just saying the device was going to be at the opening ceremonies still leaves us in the 'needle in a haystack' category."

Clark nodded. "She didn't have time to go into details, but said she was getting images and memories from whatever was attacking her. She said the device we need is about the size of a paperback book. It looks like the same silver metallic material as the disk and is covered with many similar symbols. The one memory she had of the device that was definitely here on earth involved a man wearing a Luftwaffe Major's uniform handing it to another man wearing a fedora hat, khaki tie and shirt, and a tweed jacket. The Major referred to the other man as 'Dr. Jones', in English."

For the first time since they had sat down, Whitney spoke up, spoke up in a very incredulous tone of voice. "Dr. Jones?"

The other two turned to stare at him.

When neither of them seemed to have made the connection, he added. "Come on. The 1930s. Nazis. Dr. Jones."

When he said it like that Lana immediately understood what he was saying, but that couldn't be possible. "Indiana Jones. But he is just a character in the movies. The name must be a coincidence." However she was finding it difficult to keep down the insane urge to break out into giggles. After everything else they had been through in the past couple of weeks, finding out Indiana Jones was real and here, didn't seem impossible. Unlikely, but not impossible.

Clark had seen Lex lying on the floor of the cellar with his eyes pure white spheres and had then been forced to watch Chloe succumb to the same affliction. He was not yet far enough removed from those memories to be ready to find the potential humor in their current situation.

"All Chloe said was 'Dr. Jones'. No 'Henry' or 'Indy'. Jones is a pretty common name. I think we better assume it is just a coincidence until we have more information."

Lana got herself back under control. "You're right. At least it gives us a place to start. If this 'Dr. Jones' is American or English, there is a good chance he will be staying at a hotel while he is in Berlin. We can start checking hotels and maybe the embassies for anyone with that name. If we can find him before the opening ceremonies, perhaps we can convince him to work with us at the time of the exchange."

While they had been sitting there talking, the sky in the east had slowly begun to lighten. As it reached all the way to pink, they heard the beginnings activity out on the boulevard. As they watched, a number of old ladies with brooms appeared down the street and started to work their way towards them.

Clark looked over at Whitney sitting there with one whole side of his tee-shirt caked in drying blood and jeans torn out at both knees. Then he looked at Lana. Her tee-shirt was ripped open down the front from neck to navel exposing her sheer pink bra and her jeans were torn open along the left inseam from the knee almost to her crotch. Finally, Clark looked down at his own attire. Somewhere along the way he had discarded the tuxedo jacket. The matching formal dress shirt was missing the right sleeve, had mud splattered up to the elbow on the left, and had a wide horizontal tear across the front causing it to gape open exposing his rock hard abs. One of his pant legs was fluttering in the gentle breeze where it was torn from the knee down. None of them were going to make a good first impression if they met someone important while dressed as they were now. Hell, they looked like vagrants and who knew what the German police would do if they found them like this.

Standing Clark said, "I think we better find a change of clothes before we start drawing the wrong kind of attention. Lana, since you can read German, see if you can find a likely building for me to explore."

Lana nodded and headed back towards the main boulevard. At the street, she turned right, away from the old ladies with the brooms.

They were on Olympicstrasse, the main central street passing through the center of the Olympic village. Although village was almost a misnomer as this facility, built specifically for the games to glorify the Nazi Reich, housed almost four thousand athletes and nearly one thousand support staff of coaches, trainers, and other assorted disciplines. One hundred and forty 'houses' were built to accommodate the athletes. Each house, equipped with spacious, luxurious double bed suites, was named after a different town in Germany and the interior decorations of each were representative of its namesake. The village was set up with many of the features and amenities typically found on passenger ships: dining halls, laundry facilities, movie theaters, postal services, a hospital, and gift shops plus numerous indoor and outdoor training facilities specifically for the athletes. In fact, the Norddeutscher Lloyd Shipping Line had been hired to run the Olympic Village since they were experienced at dealing with large groups of short term guests speaking numerous languages and having special dietary needs.

Anchoring the ends of the mile and a half long Olympicstrasse were the two primary venues for the Olympic competition. At the north end was the great 100,000 seat stadium for the outdoor track & field and soccer events. At the south end was the sparkling new indoor facility for swimming, gymnastics, wrestling, boxing, and weightlifting.

The small park near where they had arrived had been located close to the north end of the street, so as they walked south, they had nearly a mile of shops to explore before they would reach the indoor competition facility.

They had walked about two blocks, peering in storefront windows hoping to find an appropriate clothing store, when Lana abruptly hustled them forward and out of the bright light of the streetlamp under which they had paused.

Once they were in the relative shadows between lights, Clark asked. "What is it?"

Lana nodded her head towards a building on the other side and about half a block further down in the direction they were heading. "See the men in the dark uniforms in front of that building? Gestapo."

"Here?" asked Clark incredulously. "In the middle of the Olympic Village?"

Lana got them moving forward again. "Pretend to belong and act like we are just out for an early morning stroll. But try to stay in the shadows, no point in letting them get a good look at us or our clothes. And yeah, I wouldn't have guessed they would be so blatant as to have a Gestapo building right on this street, but then it was their superior 'we have the right to do whatever the hell we want' attitude that caused the whole Second World War."

Apparently, early morning walkers were not unusual on this street as they made it past the men in the black uniforms without any interference. They walked in silence for several more blocks before Lana finally spotted what she was looking for: an elegant men's shop next door to a woman's dress shop. She led them past these stores and turned into the alley beyond.

"I hate to suggest stealing, but we need to get out of these clothes within the next few minutes or I am afraid we are going to have more problems we don't need now."

Clark responded somberly. "Let me handle this. I seem to becoming an expert lately at pilfering clothes."

Lana nodded as she remembered the Roman robes Clark had procured on their first day back in Ancient Rome. Robes, but no underwear or shoes. Although she had to wonder how much their unusual attire had contributed to Lex and her first getting together. After looking down at their feet, she looked back at Clark. "Just don't forget the shoes this time."

Lana saw a small smile cross Clark's face for the first time since he had arrived in the cornfield where the tornado had dumped Whitney and her. She hoped this was a sign his spirits would improve or it was going to be a long week until the Opening Ceremony where they would have the opportunity to retrieve the device they needed.

Then Clark blurred and was gone. Although in the fraction of a second before he completely disappeared, Lana could have sworn he was heading back towards the main street rather than to the rear of stores as she had expected.

"Does he do that all the time?" asked Whitney.

Lana shrugged. "I don't really know. I didn't learn about Clark's secret until about a week ago and then it was second hand from Chloe while we were being tortured in a dungeon in ancient Rome. At the time I was more focused on just surviving than really concentrating on what Chloe was saying. A few hours later I was killed and didn't reawaken until we had returned to our own time. So the first time I experienced Clark's abilities first hand was only seconds before you awoke back in that cornfield."

"How does he do it? I mean one second he is standing in front of you and the next he has just vanished."

"When Chloe was first telling me, she spouted a whole bunch of different theories, but frankly I think she was just making it up. I guess you will have to ask him yourself, but I am not sure he will be able to explain. He arrived here in a tiny ship at the age of three and from what he has told me; he has no idea where he is from or why he was sent here all alone."

Just then, the subject of their conversation was abruptly standing in front of them again. Clark had already changed into a brown suit, white shirt, green and brown striped tie, black leather shoes. His new ensemble was topped by a brown felt hat tilted at a rakish angle. Other than pants a little shorter than optimal, Clark looked like something straight out of an old 'Al Capone' gangster movie.

After handing a brown paper-wrapped bundle to each of the others, he said. "Don't worry about stealing from the shop owners, I left what I think was an adequate amount of money on the counters in each store." Then he reached into his front suit pockets and pulled out a large wad of money in each hand.

Handing each of the others a handful, Clark said. "Here, this cash should hold us a while until I can scrounge up some more."

"Where did you get this?" asked Lana with a nervous glance around she couldn't suppress.

"When we walked by the Gestapo building I gave it a 'once over' with my x-ray vision to see what we might be up against and I saw the safe sitting in an empty room. It just seemed to be calling to me."

"You stole money from the Gestapo?"

Clark raised an eyebrow before saying with a smile, "They are freaking Nazis. It seemed better to steal from them than from some hopefully honest shop owners."

Lana shook her head at this example of 'Clark' logic. "Okay, Clark, although we needed the clothes more than the money. In her usual 'plan ahead' fashion, Chloe stashed away emergency funds in major cities throughout the world during the past two thousand years. I know exactly where her 'Berlin, 1920s-1930s' cache is located."

"Oh," was all Clark said. He had forgotten about Chloe's stories about secret stashes of money and that she would have passed the knowledge of the locations onto Lana.

Whitney was just closing the fly on his new suit pants, which were in a similar style to Clark's only in gray, when he looked up and asked. "How much money are we talking?"

"Here in Berlin?" asked Lana as she calmly pulled off her ruined tee-shirt, her time in ancient Rome having apparently reduced her feelings of modesty. "Eight hundred seventy three pounds of gold in a combination of old coins and five kilo bars. One thousand one hundred thirty four diamonds in the 1/2 to 1 carat range. A several handfuls of other precious gemstones."

"Eight hundred pounds of gold?" asked Whitney with a strange catch in his voice. That sounded like an amount you would only find in Fort Knox.

"You have to understand, Chloe is something like seventeen thousand years old and most of that time she ran major trading empires. Ultimately, she ended up possessing roughly half of the world's gold which is about five hundred million pounds. Not that the eight hundred pounds here in Berlin is worth as much as you think. We are still in the gold standard era and the price is fixed at $35 dollars an ounce. Eight hundred and seventy three pounds works out to about half a million dollars, throw in the jewels and the total is about two million dollars. Of course, back here without the last sixty years of inflation, a million dollars is still 'real' money. Anyway, once we have accessed Chloe's funds, cash shouldn't be a problem for the next week."

The morning was still young as the three of them sat in a street side cafe a little further down Olympicstrasse drinking bitter German coffee and eating apple fritters that were as good as the coffee was bad. Just like ancient Rome, 1936 Berlin also looked like it would benefit from a 'Talon' franchise.

Lana was reading a copy of the 'Olympic Press', a daily newspaper for residents and visitors to the Olympic Village. The paper was printed in German, but almost like magic when Lana touched Whitney's hand he found the words seemed to morph into English so he could read them, too. Although it hadn't been nearly as cool as when Lana had touched him while the waiter had been talking and in mid-sentence he seemed to switch from German to English. And it had seemed to work both ways as Whitney had answered in what he thought was English, but the words coming out of his mouth must have been German as the waiter had seemed to understand what he said.

"According to this," began Lana. "Most of the teams, including the Americans, arrived yesterday and there was a welcoming banquet last night. This morning at 9 AM an orientation session is being held at the stadium for all of the track & field participants."

Lana looked up at the ornate clock mounted on a tall pole at the end of the block. Either the Olympic Organizing Committee didn't want anyone to miss their scheduled events or it was just an example of the infamous German compulsion for order and efficient, but they had discovered the street had been lined with these clocks at two block intervals.

"We have about forty five minutes. If we leave now, we should arrive in plenty of time."

They all rose and as Clark was sticking some German Marks under his coffee cup, he asked. "Do you really think we can just walk up and talk our way onto the team?"

Lana shrugged. "I think things are a lot less formal here than in our own times. If you are good enough, you can probably do it. So guys, think you are of 1936 Olympic caliber in any track & field events?"

This question wasn't really addressed to Clark since it was obvious he could crush the records in any event that was a simple test of physical abilities. No, the question was mainly for Whitney. With all of the improvements in record times over the past sixty years, could a twenty first century high school football player compete at or near the Olympic level of 1936?

"Well," answered Whitney. "My best track event was the 200 meter dash. My best time last year before I hurt my knee was 20.6 seconds a good 1.3 seconds off of world record pace. However since the tornado, my knee feels 100%, hell it feels like more than 100%. And when we were running through the lab and you touched me, wow, what a rush. It felt like I could run flat out forever. If you could touch me and rev my body up right before the race, I am sure I could easily beat my old personal best."

From the near encyclopedic knowledge Chloe had passed on to her, Lana said. "Jesse Owen's winning time in the 200 meter dash will be 20.7 seconds. So if we can get you a chance to demonstrate your abilities, you should be able to make the team. Just don't run too fast, we still need Jesse Owen to ultimately win. We don't want to change the past and not be able to return to our own times."

Whitney had never particularly loved track & field; it was just something to do during the off-season to stay in shape for football. He had a good idea what the current world records were in the events he competed, but he hadn't realized quite how much the times had gone down since 1936. Jesse Owen had won four gold medals in the Olympics. To find out he was actually faster than him in at least one event was amazing. Wow. Maybe they could pull this off.

The eight hundred track and field contestants and the several hundred assorted others were all sitting in the center of the stands on the south side of the stadium; this large turnout looked small as they were overwhelmed by the grand scale of Hitler's stadium. A small wooden stand had been set up on the playing field directly in front of them. Three officials and six translators were standing at microphones and the remarks by the Olympic Organizing officials were being translated into German, French, English, Spanish, Italian, and Greek, as required.

Many of the athletes were dressed in training clothes, but a respectable percentage sitting in the stands were dressed in suits like Clark and Whitney, allowing them to blend in. Banners for the participating countries were scattered around the sitting area and most of the athletes were sitting with their teammates. The American group was one of the largest with 66 athletes and with 11 African-Americans the American team also had the highest percentage of blacks of any team. The only team from Africa participating in the '36 Olympics was from South Africa and their entire team was white.

Lana, Clark, and Whitney took seats at the edge of the American group. During the long pauses while the officials' comments were being translated into the different languages, Lana pointed out various members of the U.S. team she recognized from old photos, including two people who were most important in their current situation: the coaches. First, was Lawson Robertson, who at age 63 was the head U.S. track coach for the third time. His full-time job was track coach at the University of Pennsylvania and he had the distinction of being one half of the team to forever hold the Olympic record for the three-legged 100 yard dash, last run in the 1908 Olympics. The second key man was Dean Cromwell, 57, the assistant U.S. track coach and whose full-time job was head track coach for USC.

When the officials' remarks and instructions finally drew to a close and the crowd in the stands started to disperse, Lana quickly led the way over to where the coaches were standing and talking to a handful of their athletes. When there was a break in the conversation, Lana jumped in.

"Coach Robertson?"

Robertson, a stoutly built Pennsylvanian Quaker, turned to see who was interrupting his instructions to his sprinters. He found himself staring at an extremely attractive young woman in a light blue dress and large white sun hat flanked by two young, muscular, extremely tall boys in expensively cut suits. The dark haired one was at least 6'4" and 220 lbs, while the blonde haired youth was nearly as big at 6'3" and 210 lbs.

"Yes?"

"Hi, I'm Lana Lang and this is Whitney Fordman and Clark Kent. We are from Smallville, Kansas and have been doing the 'Grand Tour' this summer. I know we missed the U.S. Olympic trials, but I was wondering if you could still let us try out. You won't be disappointed."

Robertson stared at the girl for a moment. He had participated in the 1904 and 1908 Olympics and had been involved in some coaching capacity in every Olympics since, culminating in the position of head track coach during the 1928, 1932, and now the 1936 games. This was the first time a total unknown, let alone three, had had the gaul to show up a week before the games and ask for a try out. Perhaps it was worth a few minutes to teach these kids the lesson that it took years of hard effort to reach Olympic caliber.

Robertson looked the two boys over once again before asking, "What are your best events?"

Whitney quickly answered. "The 200. My personal best is 20.9." Close enough to be enticing, but hopefully not too unbelievable for this era.

"Not bad, if true. Jesse, Ralph, are you up for a little competition? Take Whitney here and go get suited up."

Two black men in their early twenties stepped forward with big grins. This was not the first time some white boy had tried to challenge them.

Whitney reached out to shake their hands feeling both excitement and a small touch of disappointment. Jesse Owen and Ralph Metcalfe would win the gold and silver in the 100 meter dash. They would both be part of the gold medal winning 4x100 relay. Jesse would also win the 200 meter and the long jump. So meeting them was like a dream come true, probably second in his life only to his exhibition game as quarterback of the Sharks for his Dad. On the other hand, the pair were not physically impressive by modern Olympic standards. Oh they were both extremely fit, but at 5'10" and 165 lbs, neither man looked like they would survive long against the average 6'5" competitor at the Sydney games.

"Jesse, Ralph, it is an honor to meet you. I followed the Olympic trials, well at least when we could find an English language paper. Win or lose, I will remember this chance to race with you for the rest of my life."

Jesse clapped Whitney on the shoulder and then the three of them headed to the locker room.

Robertson turned back to Clark. "How about you?"

"I am a pretty good all around athlete."

"Hmmm, my alternate in the javelin went down with appendicitis just before the ship sailed from New York. Ever thrown the javelin?"

"Oh, a time or two," answered Clark with just a hint of a modest shrug.

Lana almost laughed out loud at Clark's 'a time or two'. She remembered a similar hot summer day at the Circus Maximus in ancient Rome where she had watched Clark hit a thrown orange at a distance of a thousand feet with a spear tipped with a heavy iron head. The winning distance here at the 1936 Olympics using a light weight wooden javelin would be a mere 235 feet by Gerard Stoeck of Germany.

"I see some javelins out on the field. Let's see what you got."

Clark started pulling off his jacket as he and the coach walked across the running track and out into the central grassy field. Lana and some of the other U.S. team members tagged along.

As they approached the stack of javelins, Clark pulled off his dress shirt exposing his incredibly ripped pecs and abs. Lana knew Lex was her ultimate soul mate, but for a moment she couldn't help but imagine what Clark must be like in bed. After experiencing some of his other physical gifts, the thought of having sex with Clark almost boggled the mind. It seemed like only someone with a nanobot enhanced body like Chloe could both enjoy and survive the experience. 'Of course,' thought Lana, 'I have a nanobot enhanced body, too.'

Lana forced her mind away from thoughts about sex and back to the situation at hand as she watched Clark make a show of hefting several javelins before settling on one. He made several practice throwing motions when suddenly he paused with what Lana recognized as the 'Clark, sheepish expression number 4' look on his face. After holding one finger up to Coach Roberson, Clark loped over to Lana and bent down to whisper in her ear.

"Lana, what is the current record? I have no idea and I don't want to throw it 100 feet too far or too short."

Lana quickly responded since the answer was on the tip of her tongue. Well, since awakening from her death, her nanobot memory system made every fact, no matter how small or seemingly trivial, instantly available.

"The winning throw will be about 235 feet."

Clark quickly glanced out at the field with its four widely spaced, white chalk arcs. "How far?" he asked again.

Lana thought to herself 'How far?' Instantly she felt like she was back watching Monday Night Football at Whitney's house as a yellow arc overlaid her vision about five feet short of the third chalk arc.

"Five feet short of the third arc."

Clark gave her a quick peck on the cheek, going for the boyfriend-girlfriend cover story. "Got it, thanks."

Then Clark turned and trotted back to the throwing circle. Without any further delays, he immediately tossed the javelin. It was a text book perfect flight ending with the javelin sticking up out of the ground exactly five feet short of the third chalk line.

'Shit,' thought Robertson. 'The kid has horrible form and still he is up in world record territory. What can he do with a little guidance?'

"How about other events?" asked Robertson trying not to sound too excited by this totally unexpected find. "Hammer? Discus? Shot-put?"

"I have never really tried any of those," said Clark shaking his head. "I could, if you like." Clark paused for a moment. If Whitney was getting to compete against Jesse Owen, he would like to do it also. It would be a cool story to tell Lex and Chloe when they got home. "I am also pretty good at the long jump."

Robertson nodded and then led Clark away in the direction of the shot-put pit.

As they were walking away, assistant coach Dean Cromwell stepped up beside Lana. "Your friend is very impressive. And sight unseen I am guessing your other friend will be too. What about you? I did notice the 'we' and 'us' when you were talking about try-outs. I have worked with several outstanding women through my program at USC."

"I wish they had as many track & field events for women as they do for the men. Why do they only have 100 meters, 4x100 meter relay, high jump, Javelin, and discus? They are all events were pure size or upper body strength will win out and obviously at 5'4" and 94 pounds I am not going to be competitive against the 5'8" and taller women I saw in the stands." Lana shook her head. "I wish they had some distance events for women. 800 meters and up are my forte."

If only she could admit to her true abilities. With her nanobot enhancements she could run flat out almost indefinitely. Her 'new' personal best at the 100 meters was 13.1 seconds, not in Women's Olympic range even way back here. But she had always enjoyed distant running more than short sprints. Wednesday morning she had gotten up very early and had run the course used every year for the Smallville Fourth of July Marathon. She had really wanted to test the limits of her new body and had run as hard as she could the whole way. When she had reached the end and checked the time, she couldn't believe it. One hour and 36 minutes. Her 'bots kept perfect records of speed and distance, just like having one of those expensive GPS units. And the 'bots said she covered the last hundred meters on flat, level ground in exactly the same 13.1 seconds as the first hundred meters. At last year's Fourth of July Marathon, she had been so pleased with her 3 hours and 47 minutes. Now she could do it more than 30 minutes faster than the men's record back in the 21st century, and it didn't matter.

Lana looked up at Cromwell. "I don't suppose you have any pull with the fencing coach? I am very good with a foil. Well, I prefer the saber, as its extra heft is more practical in 'real world' situations, but since women are only competing with the foil, I am sure I can adjust."

Lana's eyes widened as she realized what words had just tumbled out of her mouth. Was it just all of Chloe's stories of leading troops into battle that had caused her to say that? Or was this another instance where some of Chloe's memories had leaked across when she had supposedly only transferred cold, impersonal data?

"Not that I have ever used a sword in real life. I have had this life-long dream of being an actress and being able to do a convincing sword-fight scene seemed like a useful skill. So I have been taking fencing lessons almost as long as dance lessons." Whew, was that an adequate explanation?

Cromwell laughed. "You had me going there for a minute. I thought you were going to claim to be the reincarnation of Boudica, the Warrior Queen." Then fiddling with his trademark bow tie for at least the third time since this conversation began, Cromwell sobered. "The movies. You are almost too young to remember the silent film days and we didn't even have that when I was growing up. How the world seems to be changing faster and faster every year. I guess it truly means I am getting old. Anyway, yeah, I can give you an introduction to Giorgio Santelli; we played pinochle for a couple of hours every evening during the trip over. I see your friend Whitney and the others are back from the locker room. How about after their race, I escort you down to the indoor facility and we'll see if we can't scrounge up Giorgio."

Lana nodded her thanks. Then she and Cromwell started walking over to where sprinters from many nations were congregating, for word of the unique contest had quickly spread. It wasn't often someone was given a late opportunity to qualify for the American team. It happened occasionally with the smaller, more obscure teams, but never with the Americans. Plus many of the European sprinters had never seen Owen and Metcalfe run. And that was what they were most interested in, not this young upstart who had appeared out of nowhere.

Whitney stepped out of the relative darkness of the tunnel leading from the locker rooms and into the dazzlingly bright light of the stadium. Even though the stands were mostly empty, the hundreds of remaining Olympic athletes and officials far exceeded the biggest turnout he had ever witnessed at a Smallville track meet. Now was not the time to get a case of nerves even though he was about to race against the two fastest men of the year 1936. He just needed to get his head into his pre-football game mode, as he had played football before bigger and much more vocal crowds.

As he made his way out onto the track, he tried to adjust to the biggest difference from the previous times he had run races. The shoes. It had taken some serious scrounging to find someone, ultimately a Swiss sprinter, with feet as big as Whitney's size 13, from who to borrow a set of cleated running shoes. But these shoes were nothing like the modern, ultra-lightweight ones he was accustom to using. No, these felt more like boat anchors, at least four times the weight of his pair back home and even his were nowhere near the weight of modern Olympic class shoes. No wonder the current records were so much faster, the shoes alone felt like they would make a second worth of difference. But he couldn't worry about that now, he would just have to do his best.

Only the 100 meter race was short enough to run in a straight line without any turns. For the 200 meters it was necessary to start on the back side of the track and make one turn to reach the finish line on the front straight. Since they were required to stay in their assigned lane, the curve forced a staggered start to have the occupants of all of the lanes run the same distance. Most people preferred the outer lane as it had the most gradual turn, but in Whitney's mind it was a disadvantage as the other lanes started behind you and it wasn't until you cleared the turn that you could see how you were doing relative to the others. No, he always hoped for one of the inner lanes; he liked the feeling that he was coming from behind and passing his opponents. But Jesse and Ralph were trying to be generous and had insisted he take the outermost lane.

He could see someone had already set the starting blocks in position and his opponents were heading straight for theirs, but Whitney saw Lana standing in the infield at the edge of the track next to Coach Cromwell and made a detour over to them. When he reached them, Lana quickly clasped his hand.

"Are you ready? Are you going to show them what someone from Smallville can do?" asked Lana out loud as she stalled for the few seconds necessary to activate the 'bots in Whitney's body and give him a last second boost.

"Yeah," responded Whitney just a touch raggedly as he felt the surge of power roll through his body. The closest thing he could ever remember to the feeling he was now experiencing was during the game against Emporia back in October. The Crows had been backed up right against their own goal line and he had been forced out of the pocket before any of his receivers became open. After a mad scramble he had found a hole in the line and ended up running the ball ninety four yards for the touchdown. Ninety four yards doesn't sound like much compared to the 200 meter dash, but you never do the 200 meters while wearing almost thirty pounds of protective gear and after nearly sixty minutes of hard football and four bruising sacks.

After that grueling play he had spent several minutes sitting on the bench sucking oxygen. Sucking oxygen was the closest he could come to describing the feeling running through his body now as the 'bots worked to clean all of the toxins and carbon dioxide from his body and pre-saturate his muscles with oxygen. In mere seconds he felt like he was almost ready to challenge Clark to a race, as impossible as he knew that was. But mere human competitors? They wouldn't stand a chance!

Abruptly, though the mind-link, Lana said, "This is the best I can do to improve your chances. The rest is up to you."

Whitney nodded. As he started to pull his hand away, Lana pulled him back for a quick kiss. Just as he started to think the kiss might mean more than did, Lana pulled back and said, "For luck." Then she spun him towards his starting block and then with a slap to the ass said, "Go get them, Tiger."

Dean Cromwell was startled by the girl's behavior. Not the kiss, but the slap on the butt. This was a tradition that wouldn't come into common practice for another forty years and even then it would be a long time before you would see the slap delivered by a girl. He couldn't put his finger on it, but this was just one more clue that there was something strange, something just a little not right about these three. Exactly who were they and where had they appeared from?

Whitney settled into his starting blocks, the rush from Lana's boost already seeming to fade a little. It was time to clear his mind of all distractions like nanobots, Olympics, time travel, and Lana, although the last was the hardest to do. No, he must focus his full attention on the race. He wouldn't be able to tell the relative position of Owen and Metcalfe until they cleared the turn, so he needed to do his best to explode out of the starting blocks. It would definitely be simplest to be leading once they reached the front straight. Then, if necessary, he could slack off a little at the end to keep the race close.

Gradually, the assembled sprinters and other onlookers began to quiet as he heard one of the officials call for them to assume the starting position. Apparently, the officials were using this as an opportunity to get in a little practice as well.

"On your mark!"

"Get ready!"

And BANG! The starter's pistol went off and Whitney surged out of his blocks. In four strides he had almost reached his top speed as he swept through the gentle turn of the outer lane.

Faster and faster Whitney urged his body forward as hard as he could. Coming out of the turn he forgot all about his intention to watch for the others and adjust his performance. Instead, his full attention was focused on the finish line looming up in the distance. All the way to the end he pushed himself to one hundred percent and then even a little beyond.

As he broke the tape, he knew he had beaten his own personal best and at that moment, that was all that mattered.

For several seconds there was stunned silence from the various onlookers then the crowd erupted in frantic cheering. This unknown sprinter, who was supposed to be humiliated by the two fastest men in the world, had instead just blown them out of the water, beating them by over fifteen meters.

While the three men stood twenty meters past the finish line catching their breaths, Head Coach Robertson and Clark walked up from one direction while Assistant Coach Cromwell and Lana walked up from another.

"Owen, Metcalfe. What the fuck was that all about?" demanded Robertson. "You are not earning any favors from me letting this kid have an easy victory."

"Honest, coach," said Owen while his eyes kept glancing over to Whitney. "I gave it everything I had and thought I had one of my best times."

Robertson flicked his eyes to Metcalfe, who nodded his agreement.

"Lawson," said Cromwell quietly while holding up two stopwatches. "I have Owen at 20.58 seconds which is a new best for him. However the kid ran a 19.3 flat. Too bad this wasn't an officially sanctioned race or we would have a new World Record on our hands."

"19.3 seconds?" echoed Robertson. "There must be a mistake. Something must be wrong with your watch."

"I don't think so," said Cromwell. "But I will check the crowd. Someone else must have been timing the race, too."

Robertson turned to Whitney. "Kid, if you can do that again, I think both you and Kent here have just found spots on the team. What did you say your name was again?"

"Fordman. Whitney Fordman." As he spoke, he took in the expression on Lana's face. She was obviously less than thrilled he hadn't followed the agreed to plan. But Whitney did a mental shrug, what did it matter? The one guy said the time wasn't official. And if they stuck to the plan, they would have the alien device and be long gone before the 'official' track and field events even began. The main thing was it sounded like both he and Clark would be on the team and staying in the village.

As Cromwell walked off in search of others to confirm his times and Robertson took his other sprinters aside for a little motivational speech, Lana and Clark stepped closer to Whitney.

"Incredible race, Whitney," said Clark reaching out and shaking his hand.

Then Lana pulled him into a quick hug before stepping back. "Yeah, more impressive than we had planned, but wow. By my 'bots clock, you ran a 19.28 second race. That even beats Michael Johnson's 19.32 world record back home."

Whitney knew he had run a fast race, but to have beaten the world record. Maybe he should consider a career change when they got back home. Of course, if anyone ever found out about his 'bots, it would probably be considered just as illegal as performance enhancing drugs.

"Well, it sounds like Clark and I are in at the Olympic village. What about you, Lana?"

"For track and field, the women only have five events and they all are ones where pure size and upper body strength will win out. Even with my 'bots I am unlikely to be competitive in any of these events. Coach Cromwell is friends with the U.S. fencing coach and is taking me down to the indoor center for an introduction. Fencing is one of the sports where my 'bot enhanced reflexes will give me the biggest advantage."

After the last few minutes, Clark was in the best mood he had been in since he had been out on the dance floor kissing Chloe. Was that only four hours ago? With a grin he said, "Too bad catching arrows isn't an Olympic event, you would be in a class of your own."

Whitney gave Clark a wondering look.

"Oh, there was one time when we were back in ancient Rome and Chloe was passing herself off as a Druid Witch and I was her demonically possessed warrior. She demonstrated her magical abilities by catching arrows shot at her. Plus, I wasn't present at the time, but Chloe, Lex, and Laura fought a big battle against several hundred Roman archers. Of course, it does help when you miss deflecting an arrow, if you are able to just pull it out and instantly heal."

At this point, Coach Cromwell rejoined them and the conversation had to turn back to more mundane things, but Whitney was getting intrigued to hear more about their adventures in ancient Rome. Their stories would have been almost impossible to believe, if not for the fact they were at this moment themselves back in time competing in the 1936 Olympics.

End of Chapter 6


	7. Biological Families Chapter 7

Biological Families

Author: duane at duaneaakre dot com

Disclaimer: As always I own nothing. Well I own a house, two cars, a pair of jetskis, and a lot of other junk, but none of these characters.

Story Rating: R [The story may drift into the HBO range rather than stay in the WB range, so to be on the safe side, I am rating this R.]

Chapter 7

"I found him!" exclaimed Lana when she finally tracked down Clark and Whitney at their 'house' in the Olympic Village. This was still the 1930's and the women on the American team where staying in different houses than the men. With the guys training with the track & field team and she with the fencing team, they had rarely seen each other during the day for the three days they had been back here.

Lana had spent most of her free time every day on the phone calling hotels in search of the elusive Dr. Jones. At last her diligence had paid off.

"Where?" asked Clark climbing to his feet from where he and Whitney had been sitting in the shared living room of the house. Opening the front door, he led them back out onto the front porch where they would have more privacy in case the conversation drifted into the wrong areas. It certainly wouldn't do to have others on the track team learn they were from the future or about their special 'gifts'.

"The Schlosshotel. It is a small, relatively new hotel located just off Potsdamer Platz. Well, new as a hotel, it was a private mansion for over fifty years before the conversion eight years ago. Apparently, like a lot of other people during the post-World War I era in Germany, the owners went through hard times and had to convert it to a hotel to survive. Unfortunately, there are a lot of these 20-30 room former mansions turned hotels in Berlin to search, which is why it took me so long to find him."

"So he is really here," remarked Whitney.

Lana shook her head. "A 'Dr. and Mrs. Jones' are registered at the hotel. It looks like the Jones last name was just a coincidence."

Whitney nodded with a mild look of disappointment on his face. On top of everything else that had happened since they had been back here, it would have been so cool to have met Indiana Jones.

"Where is this Potsdamer Platz?" asked Clark.

"Central Berlin, about thirty kilometers from here. It is sort of the Berlin version of Fifth Avenue and Times Square all rolled into one. An express train leaves from the Olympic station for there every 45 minutes."

"What are we waiting for?" asked Clark already heading down the front steps. "Let's go."

"Clark, you know Coach Robertson is seriously enforcing the nine o'clock curfew," answered Whitney. "I doubt we can get there by train and back in two hours."

Clark looked at Whitney. "You are taking this Olympic thing way too seriously. Don't forget the main reason we are here is to hook up with this Dr. Jones and get the alien device to save Chloe and Lex."

"I agree with Clark," said Lana. "The sooner we meet Dr. Jones, the more time we will have to convince him to help us. We need to stay focused here." Even Lana had found it easy to become wrapped up in the whole Olympic atmosphere and after three days it was sometimes hard to remember that back in their own time they only had a few minutes left to rescue Lex and Chloe.

By the time they made the train connection, arrived at Potsdamer Platz, and found the elegant side street on which the Schlosshotel was located, it was well after eight in the evening. In another half hour it would be truly dark and already the old-style gas streetlamps had been lit on this street. The street itself was busy with both pedestrian traffic and horse-drawn carriages; far more horse-drawn carriages than any of 21st century teenagers had expected at this point in time well over thirty years into the automotive age.

The street was lined by magnificent mansions set well back behind imposing stone walls. They had walked slightly over three blocks from the platz before reaching the Schlosshotel and noticed almost two-thirds of the mansions had discrete hotel signs on their front gates.

After entering the property via the small pedestrian gate, they walked through an ornate, immaculate garden accented with pale yellow roses before reaching the main entrance to the mansion. As soon as they stepped inside, they were greeted by a pleasant, middle-aged major domo in formal attire.

"Good evening, Madame, gentlemen, I am Karl," began the man in German with a deep baritone voice. "How may I be of service?"

Lana smiled and responded also in fluent German. "Good evening. We would like to speak with Dr. Jones, please."

The man frowned for the barest moment before regaining his benign smile. "I do not believe Dr. Jones is in the hotel at the moment. However you are welcome to leave a message. Or Mrs. Jones is in and I could ring her."

Lana couldn't completely keep her disappointment off of her face; they had been waiting so long for this meeting and now it looked like it was going to be at least another day. However since they had come all this way, they might as well at least try to talk to his wife. Perhaps she could provide some information about her husband's background which might clarify why he would be receiving the artifact from the German officer. And hopefully that would suggest some ideas on how best to broach the topic when they did finally meet Dr. Jones.

"If you could ring her, that would be great," said Lana throwing in one of her most endearing smiles. Then hoping Dr. Jones was not a simple country doctor, but some kind of professor or instructor, she added. "We are former students of Dr. Jones. We just found out he was in town and hoped we would have a chance to say hello."

"Of course," responded the clerk and then with a slight bow he retreated behind the desk and picked up the house phone.

"Well?" asked Clark in a subdued voice.

"Dr. Jones isn't here, but his wife is. The desk clerk is calling to see if she is interested in meeting us."

Before Clark or Whitney had a chance to respond, the clerk quickly returned.

"Mrs. Jones will be happy to see you. She is in the honeymoon suite." He gestured towards the grand staircase at the back of the entrance hall. "Take a left at the top of the stairs and then it will be the last door on your left."

Lana nodded her thanks and then led the way up the marble stairs. As she translated for the others, she spared a moment to take in the oil paintings lining the walls. From the numerous portraits of men in elegantly beribboned dress uniforms, a tradition of military service was apparent for the family of the owners.

At the top of the stairs Lana turned left and started down the long corridor. As she walked, she once again pondered the fates that had led to this moment. Back in ancient Rome, Chloe had been the undisputed leader of their group, based on previous experience there and her thousands of years of experience leading men and nations. Then there had also been Lex with his whole life spent mingling with the rich and powerful. But now neither of them were here. Oh, Clark was still present with all of his incredible strength and speed, but with her newfound gift for languages, it was Lana who had been forced into the position of leadership in their new, small group. And Lana realized, almost a little surprised, she was having fun being in charge, which was a far cry from how she had felt during most of her time in ancient Rome. For a long time, her greatest fear back there had been that she would be separated from the others and find herself all alone in a scary, barbaric civilization where she couldn't even speak the language. Ultimately, she had learned the language and hadn't been separated, but still she had ended up tortured and killed. However, now, on this latest time travel adventure with her nanobot enhanced body, she was experiencing a constant rush of vitality and a feeling of nearly limitless power with her effectively universal language skills and seemingly endless supply of stored knowledge.

So, in a better mood than she had been in only moments earlier, Lana quelled the butterflies in her stomach, briskly stepped up to the door of the Jones' suite, and firmly knocked.

"Yes," said a woman's voice through the closed door.

"Mrs. Jones, my name is Lana Lang. I would like to talk to you for a minute, if that is okay," answered Lana in English.

Lana could hear the deadbolt being withdrawn and then the door swung slowly open.

"You're American," exclaimed the woman, also in American-accented English.

Mrs. Jones was a tall woman for her era. At least 5'8", she seemed to tower over Lana. At first glance she looked in her late twenties, but as Lana looked more closely, she took in the fine lines around her eyes and the handful of gray hairs scattered around her otherwise brunette hair and quickly revised her estimate upwards closer to forty, a well preserved forty. She was dressed in a conservative gray skirt, matching jacket and white blouse. The cut of the clothes was definitely from the 1930's, but somehow they suited her better than the similar style seemed to work for Lana. Perhaps it was just what the woman was used to wearing and therefore she was more comfortable, while Lana would have been more at home in jeans and a tee-shirt.

"It is nice to meet you, Mrs. Jones," said Lana as she extended her right hand. Mrs. Jones absently took the offered hand while giving the two tall men flanking Lana the quick once over.

Quickly, Lana indicated the others. "This is Whitney Fordman and Clark Kent."

After Clark and Whitney said hello in English, Mrs. Jones visibly relaxed a little. "Do come in. And please, call me Marion."

While the three stepped past her, they shared a glanced that said, 'Marion? As in Marion Ravenwood?'

After Marion Jones sent a surprisingly furtive glance down the corridor as though she was expecting the boogey-man to be lurking just outside of her suite, she closed the door and turned back to the three teenagers, a genuine smile gracing her face for the first time.

"Do have a seat," she said gesturing to the two large sofas facing the unlit fireplace in the large sitting room of the spacious suite. As with the walls of the grand staircase, the walls of the sitting room were covered with paintings of men in military uniform, although here, some of the paintings were more in the form of family portraits. "I wasn't expecting guests, but I would be happy to order up room service, if there is anything you would like."

Lana shook her head politely. "Thanks, but no. We don't want to take up too much of your time."

Marion nodded and then took a seat near Lana on the coach opposite the boys. "So, Karl said you were students of Hank's? You look a little young, or am I getting that old?"

'My god', thought Lana. 'It really is Henry -Indiana- Jones and Marion Ravenwood. Although Marion doesn't look very much like the actress, Karen Allen, the real Marion does look a lot tougher and stronger willed, like she could really run a bar in remote Tibet or kick some ass in a tight situation. And when did they get married?'

Lana grinned, although what part of the current situation was the primary reason eluded her at the moment. "No, you're not getting that old. We are a little younger than his students, but it seemed like the simplest thing to say. I am very interested in archeology and hope to make it my career someday. I have followed your husband's career for a long time and when I found out he was also in Berlin, I had to try and meet him. Although I must admit I know more about his professional career than his personal life; as I didn't even realize he was married."

"Oh, no reason you would know about our marriage, it only happened three weeks ago. We were on our honeymoon in Paris when Hank received an urgent call from one of his contacts here in Berlin." As she spoke, Marion unconsciously was toying with her ring, a very atypical wedding band. It had a large, light blue stone, not an actual jewel, but something that fell more into semi-precious stone category. Even more unusual was the heavy gold band with numerous tiny engraved characters. Even without a good look, Lana could tell it was a very old antique.

"That is a very unusual ring," commented Lana.

"Hank found it on one of his expeditions. Here, take a closer look." Then Marion slid the ring off of her finger and handed it to Lana.

Taking the ring, she turned it slowly over in her hand. "It is very rare to see a Lapis Lazuli stone in this light shade of blue. It must be from Chile. And the ring itself bears that out. From the symbol for 'divine power' it is obvious this is from the early Olmec era, about 825 B.C. Although the way the wavy lines are located on the bottom edge of the symbol, I would have to say this is from the offshoot civilization located along the north shore of Lake Titicaca."

"Lake Titicaca?" echoed Whitney in a tone that suggested he thought she was pulling their leg.

Absently Lana answered as she continued to examine the ring, "A large South American lake on the border between modern Peru and Bolivia."

"You can read the inscription?" asked Marion in an excited tone. Ever since Hank had first given her the ring back in Tibet, she had tried to decipher the symbols. When they had finally, briefly, returned to the States, she had even consulted with the experts at the Smithsonian and at Yale without any luck.

"Sure," answered Lana, forgetting for the moment this was a very obscure, lost language, which only she and Chloe could possibly know. "It grants the wearer divine power over all of the inhabitants between the Apurimac River in the north and the Salar de Uyuni Plain in the south. Since it uses the feminine form for 'wearer', it clearly dates the ring between 837 BC and 814 BC, which is the only period when the Olmec Empire was a matriarchy."

Marion stared at the young girl who couldn't possibly know all these details of a supposedly 'lost' civilization. However Hank had said the ring had been found in a burial mound near Lake Titicaca.

"Lana, this wouldn't be another story from our sometimes blonde friend?" asked Clark trying not to be too obvious about warning Lana she was stepping into things not prudently discussed in front of strangers.

"Yeah, she was known as Atalaya during that era. She gave the ring to her daughter, Azurduy, when she turned the empire over to her." Abruptly, Lana stopped speaking as she realized the ring had triggered another memory from one of Chloe's former lives, which had been accidentally added to her 'bot memory system. She had been so caught up in the moment, she had rambled on about things which shouldn't be said in front of Marion. Particularly since she was the current owner of the ring AND was married to an archeologist.

Trying to get the conversation headed back in the direction they needed, Lana deliberately shook her had as though to clear it and then handed the ring back. "Sorry, about that. The Olmec history and language has always been a special interest of mine and I can easily get distracted and head off on a tangent. If your husband is interested, I would be happy to discuss my research with him. When do you expect him back so we could make an appointment?"

Marion was still marveling at the extent of this teenage girl's apparent knowledge of an obscure, long dead civilization when the girl's final words sank in. For a few minutes her thoughts had been distracted from her worries about her husband.

Her hands once again started to nervously fiddle with her ring as she answered. "I am not sure when he will be available. He left this morning for a 10 AM appointment that was only suppose to take an hour, but I haven't heard from him since. In his line of work, things can take a lot longer than expected, but I am starting to get a little concerned."

Lana, Whitney, and Clark exchanged a glance. If Indiana Jones was missing, it might be up to them to find him in time for the exchange at the Opening Ceremony, now only four days away.

Lana had just turned back towards Marion to voice their encouragement and to start pumping her for information to begin their search for Indy, when suddenly the door to the hotel hallway exploded inward. And this wasn't a simple case of the lock being torn loose and the door pivoting on its hinges. No, the door and a large portion of its heavy enclosing frame were torn from the wall and hurled halfway across the room. As the four occupants of the room wrenched their heads around at the noise, two men dress all in black without any identifying insignia stepped through the shattered doorway.

Whitney, who was seated closest to the door, rose to his feet and stepped towards the intruders. Whitney towered over these merely average height men, but when he had approached within arm's reach, one of the men grabbed Whitney's shirtfront with one hand and casually tossed him fifteen feet across the room. Whitney hit the wall next to the fireplace and everyone in the room clearly heard the loud double 'snap' as his left arm hit the mantle and both bones in his forearm shattered.

Before his body had even slumped to the ground, Lana was already up out of her seat and moving towards him.

Clark immediately realized three things. First, he needed to buy Lana the few seconds she would need to heal Whitney. Second, whoever these guys were, they were much stronger than normal humans. And finally, they must be somehow connected to the disappearance of Indy and he needed them to lead him to wherever Indy was being held. Oh, he felt confident he could take them, but he wasn't sure they would talk. No, it was better if they thought they had the upper hand for the present.

Quickly, Clark rose, took two steps towards them, which happened to place him between the intruders and the others, and fell to his knees while raising his hands in a beseeching manner. In his best whiny voice, Clark said. "Please don't hurt me. I'll give you anything you want." Then Clark reached into his pocket and quickly pulled out a large roll of bills.

Grabbing the money from Clark's hand, one of the intruders said with a laugh in very thickly accented English. "Thanks, kid." Then after pocketing the money, the man grabbed the lapels of Clark's suit coat in both hands and tossed him towards the wall separating the sitting room from the bedroom. Tossed him very, very hard.

Clark's body crossed the intervening twenty feet in a fraction of a second and then the whole building shook as he crashed through the wall. And this wall was no lightweight twenty first century wall made from two-by-fours and cheap drywall. No, the wall was built with heavy stone blocks reinforced with 12 inch by 12 inch timbers. Clark's passage through the wall destroyed two of the main timbers and a six foot wide section of the ceiling collapsed into the vacant hole.

Clark finally came to rest sprawled half on and half off the bed. He lay there for a moment stunned, more in surprise than from any injury. Who were these guys? The only times he had run into people who could toss him around like this, they had always turned out to be meteor rock freaks. But he hadn't felt any of the typical meteor rock induced weakness when the man had grabbed him. So what were they? If they were somehow involved with the alien artifact they were seeking, could they be from the same place Clark was originally from? Were they the first members of his own race he was going to meet? If so, Clark was not impressed. They acted like nothing more than hired thugs.

If they assumed Clark was just a normal human, then they would assume he was dead or seriously injured. Since he could monitor the action in the other room with his x-ray vision, Clark decided it was best to leave them believing he was incapacitated for the moment. Still trying to understand who these guys were, Clark watched and listened.

While Clark was distracting the intruders, Lana quickly reached Whitney and grasped one of his hands. He had been stunned by the force of his impact, but it only took a couple of seconds after Lana had activated the 'bots in his body for his head to clear. Through the mind-link Lana said, 'Lay still. Your arm will be repaired in seven more seconds.'

'How did we ever survive before the nanobots?' asked Whitney.

Lana could hear the humor in his thoughts. 'Dumb luck, mostly. Or more likely, unnoticed action by Clark. Okay, time for you to appear to come around. Remember to act groggy and that your left arm is supposed to be broken.'

'Yes, Mother.' Then Whitney moaned and slowly sat up. Cradling his left arm against his body, Whitney flung his right arm across Lana's shoulder and slowly levered himself to his feet. As he stood swaying slightly, he saw for the first time the large hole where Clark had crashed through the wall.

'Shit, is Clark okay?'

Lana glanced over at the wall. 'I didn't see it first hand, but back in Rome Clark apparently tossed over two hundred feet, a six foot diameter, fifty foot long stone pillar, which had to weigh hundreds of thousands of pounds. If he can do that, smashing through one small wall is not going to hurt him.' She knew her comments were true, but she still couldn't help being a little concerned when Clark didn't reappear.

By this time, one of the intruders had reached Marion and grabbed her arm. "Wait. Why are you doing this? I'm not rich. No one is going to pay a ransom to get me back."

"This is not about ransom," snarled the man holding her arm. "It is about motivation. Apparently your husband needs a little motivation to convince him to tell us what we need to know."

Pulling Marion towards the door, he continued. "Wolfgang, grab those other two. Perhaps if we start on them first, it will convince Dr. Jones we are serious when we get around to his wife."

Wolfgang grabbed Whitney and Lana each by the upper arm with a vice-like grip forcing them to walk one on each side of him as they exited the room. This position broke the physical contact they had been maintaining and left alone in their heads with nothing to think about except how to escape from this dangerous situation.

Quickly the three hostages were led down the hall to a small service stairway which exited in the servant quarters on the ground floor. Continuing towards the back, the small party soon found themselves in a dark alleyway where they were rapidly forced into the back of a waiting van. As they arranged themselves on the floor, Lana managed to maneuver herself to be sitting next to Whitney so she could translate any useful conversations for him and they could use the mind-link to plan their strategy.

Almost before they were seated, the idling van was thrown into gear and accelerated away. As they veered from street to street as though the driver was trying to lose any potential tail, Marion spoke up.

"I am so sorry you got dragged into this. And your friend, my God, I hope he isn't seriously hurt or worse." When Hank had suggested to her that they detour to Berlin based on the faintest rumor of another powerful Biblical relic having been recovered, she had protested they had barely survived their last encounter with the Nazis in Egypt and then on that small Aegean island. But she had finally acquiesced and now look at the mess they were in. Hank was being held captive somewhere. She had been kidnapped. And three high school aged kids had been caught in the middle. At least she had had an inkling of what they might be getting into based on their past experiences, but not these poor kids.

Lana looked over their surroundings, but didn't see anything that would immediately help to get them out of this situation. The two men who had so easily thrown Whitney and Clark around were riding in the back of the van with them, so trying anything like breaking down the back door was out of the question. But the men didn't seem interested in preventing Marion from talking. They must feel they were in control and it just didn't matter.

Lana wanted to learn more about what Marion knew about the situation, but their captors obviously spoke English and German. Would they stop her if she spoke a more obscure language? If Marion was really the Marion from the movies and had spent ten years in Tibet, she should be conversant in the Gtsang dialect of central Tibet.

Speaking softly Lana addressed her in that language. "Don't worry about us; we have been in much tighter situations before. And Clark, he is very tough. I am sure he is already in pursuit. Actually, I wouldn't be surprised if he isn't just waiting for these people to lead us to your husband before he acts. Now, do you have any idea what is going on? What we are in the middle of?"

Marion's mouth dropped open in surprise when the girl, no, when Lana started speaking. How many Americans could speak the Gtsang dialect? She thought until now the answer was less then 20. Who was this girl? First, her unexplainable knowledge about the Olmecs and now this. She could almost believe her when she said they had been in dangerous situations before. Maybe they could help, if they knew more.

"Hank heard rumors of a powerful Biblical relic having come into the hands of the Nazis," began Marion in the same language Lana had used. "We came to Berlin so he could check with several of his contacts."

Lana interrupted. "You mean another object like the Ark of the Covenant?"

Marion looked at her sharply. "You know about the Ark?" Lana nodded. "Yeah, another object like the Ark or the Grail cup."

Whitney, who had been listening to the girls' conversation through the mind-link with Lana, said to Lana through the same link, 'Wait, that can't be right. The grail adventure doesn't take place until 1938.'

'Yeah, and Indy and Marion weren't married,' responded Lana. 'Obviously, the real events were similar, but not exactly the same as the movie version. Now, shush. We need to find out more about what is going on. Is this new mysterious biblical relic related to the alien artifact we came for, or do we have two distinct problems to resolve before we can hope to return home?'

End of Chapter 7

To be continued.

Author's Notes:

Just a quick teaser chapter before I head out on vacation, hope you liked it.

Now, before the Indiana Jones Continuity Police start attacking me, I suggest you send your complaints to Lucas and Spielberg instead, although it is primarily Steven who screwed up the continuity of the movies. Let me back up a little and explain. George Lucas met the elderly Henry Jones in March 1973. (Indy was just a nickname he had as a kid and he hated it. When I first met him, he was nearly 80 and I still saw him punch someone out for calling him that. I use the name Indy occasionally in the story because people expect it, but I would never have said it to his face.) This was while he was working on 'American Graffiti', but before he reached fame and fortune with 'Star Wars'. Jones told him the stories that would evolve into the three movies and the correct sequence was the Grail Adventure in 1933, the Temple of Doom Adventure in 1935, and the Lost Ark Adventure in 1936. George thought the Lost Ark Adventure was the most exciting and would make the best movie. He was already working on it during the filming of the first Star Wars movie. When he made it big, he still decided to do that story first, even though it was chronologically last. After the first 'Jones' movie brought in a huge return at the box office, George just decided to do them in reverse order (and as can be seen by people's reaction to the Star Wars prequels, he makes his own choices and rarely gives a damn what anyone else thinks). It was Spielberg who prevailed on George to set the grail story after the other two to give the audience a sense of closure. But this is not the real sequence of events. In at least this instance, I can prove that my timeline is correct. If you watch the movie, 'Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade', closely, there is only one event that is easily dated: the book burning sequence in Berlin. This event happened in the spring of 1933, shortly after Adolph Hitler took control of Germany. And don't just take my word for it, spend five minutes to open up Google or your favorite search engine and type the phrase 'Nazi Book Burning' and look at the proof for yourself. Obviously, when Steven made his little alteration of the truth, he didn't realize we would all soon have access to something like the Internet to check his facts.

Anyway, back to Henry Jones. As I said, Lucas met him in March of 1973. I didn't meet him until the fall of the following year. Now perhaps I have a more trustworthy face than Lucas, or perhaps it was because Jones had been burned by movie people before, or perhaps it was simply our mutual friend, Jim Beam, but Jones imparted to me, but not Lucas, his part of the story I am now telling. He did, however, swear me to secrecy and I agreed not to pass on these events to anyone for at least thirty years to ensure the time line would not be disrupted. Well, I am a man of my word, but the thirty years have now passed and I can safely pass this story on.

In some ways it is too bad Lucas didn't get this story as well, since in many ways it is the most exciting of the lot. I mean in both the Ark and Grail adventures it was all about the race to get the relic before the Nazis. And if they did possess those relics briefly, the Nazis did so only to their ultimate peril. However in this adventure the Nazis were already in possession of this latest relic and were using this incredible manifestation of God's power before Jones was even aware of it. If not for the eventual teaming of Jones and Clark Kent, well, the world would be a much different place.

But I have hinted enough about the upcoming chapters for now, until next time –

Duane


	8. Biological Families Chapter 8

Biological Families

Author: duane at duaneaakre dot com

Disclaimer: As always I own nothing. Well I own a house, two cars, a pair of jetskis, and a lot of other junk, but none of these characters.

Story Rating: R The story may drift into the HBO range rather than stay in the WB range, so to be on the safe side, I am rating this R.

Chapter 8

Clark had been following the dark van for over thirty minutes as it wound its way generally south from the Schlosshotel. Berlin had a population similar to Paris, but sprawled over an area five times as large. As a result, it was broken up by numerous parks and wooded areas. They passed through several such areas before reaching the van's final destination: a remote chateau on a tall bluff overlooking the Spree River. This ancient, thousand-year-old chateau was separated from its nearest neighbor by almost a kilometer of dark, foreboding forest.

The van paused briefly at the outer wall which enclosed a brightly lit courtyard in front of the main entrance to the large, four-story-tall structure. As Clark watched from his hiding spot in the trees along the side of the road, a guard in the black uniform of the German SS stepped out through a small doorway adjacent to the large wrought iron gate. After a few seconds of conversation with the driver, the guard retreated back through the doorway and then the large vehicular gate began to swing open.

Before the van even began to move, Clark accelerated into 'speed mode' and raced through the partially open gate. As he entered the courtyard, he studied its contents and the entrances into the main portion of the chateau. The courtyard contained six other parked vehicles including several open-air staff cars and two military-looking trucks; the shadows from the latter could provide him cover to hide while the van disgorged its occupants. Before choosing one of those locations however, Clark continued to scan the front of the chateau. In addition to the central entrance at the top of a flight of wide stone stairs, several smaller doorways were located near the corners of the courtyard and looked like service entrances. Quickly, Clark decided he could do a cursory tour of the building in the time it would take for the van to park and for Lana, Whitney, and Marion to be led inside. Perhaps if he was lucky, he could find and retrieve Indy first and then go back for the others.

Choosing the service door in the southeast corner of the courtyard because that end of the building had the fewest lit windows, Clark raced inside. Immediately he found himself in a long dark passage. His enhanced vision allowed him to see as well as if all of the lights had been on, but still he found the interior of the chateau ominously gloomy and depressing.

Proceeding down the corridor Clark used his x-ray vision to scan the rooms on both sides, but all of the rooms were unoccupied. Finally, about one hundred feet from the entrance, he came upon a stairway leading both up and down. Deciding to start at the bottom and works his way up, he took the stairs down, three at a time. After passing two intermediate levels, he finally reached the lowest level about sixty feet below ground.

This lowest dungeon level had been unused and blocked off for over six hundred years since the last dark Teutonic Knight, Erich Greifswald, had finally fallen before the papal legions of the warrior Pope, Boniface IX, in 1393. Closed off that is until the secret occult branch of the SS had commandeered the chateau in 1933 during the earliest days of the Nazi regime. Once more this secret level had been restored to its original purpose: the wielding of the blackest magics to achieve dominion over the world. Black Masses, communion with the dead, human sacrifices, conjuring of demons, and more had been attempted here to ensure the success of Nazis' mad dreams. Additionally, religious relics with reputed supernatural powers had been begged, borrowed, or stolen from countless faiths all over the world. They had been brought here for testing with the useful ones presented to the ruling tribunal who secretly pulled Hitler's strings. Most of the relics had proven worthless, but recently a relic of undeniable power had been discovered in the deepest, most remote corner of ancient Mesopotamia, in a place once called 'The Valley of Sorek'. Now this relic had been used to bestow four dark champions with superhuman abilities.

However Clark was not aware he was about to encounter two of these enhanced men as he paused at the bottom of the stairs to scan the area with his x-ray vision. No, all Clark saw was the skeletal outline of a man tied to a chair in a large back chamber and two men, who were obviously guards, in the hallway leading to its solitary entrance. Clark quickly realized the bound man must be Indiana Jones and if he was going to retrieve him without giving away his own secrets, he was going to have to take out the two guards first.

Stepping from the darkness of the stairwell, Clark strode towards the men at the far end. Once he was spotted and the others started towards him, Clark called out. "Hey, is the right platform for the subway to Potsdamer Platz?"

For just a second the stride of the two men, both dressed in nondescript black like the men at the hotel, faltered; obviously they understood English. Then they resumed their approach until the first man reached Clark and immediately grabbed a fistful of Clark's shirt and tie. As he started to hoist Clark off the ground, Clark said. "You know, a simple no would have been sufficient."

Clark didn't understand where all of these incredibly strong men were coming from, but this time he wasn't caught off guard. Just as the man was about to toss him like had happened back in the hotel, Clark slammed his own powerful right arm forward and wrapped his hand about the other man's throat. When the man tried to shove Clark away, Clark pivoted to the side and then used the other man's momentum to start spinning him; implementing the hammer-throw technique Coach Robertson had so conveniently taught him. Clark did two complete accelerating three-hundred-sixty degree rotations until his body was a blur and then released the other man to go pin wheeling and screaming down the corridor back towards the stairwell. The man's body was traveling at over three hundred miles an hour when he slammed into and through the stone wall adjacent to the stairs. The whole corridor shook from the impact and the collapsing of a portion of the wall. A fraction of a second later the corridor shook again as the man's body slammed through the next wall twenty feet beyond. Then the floor shook a third time as he crashed into and cracked the solid rock wall which signaled the end of the dungeon in that direction.

From the time the first man had touched Clark until Clark turned back towards the second man, less than six seconds had elapsed. The second man, Henrich Schultz, gaped at Clark in wonder.

'Who the fuck is he?' Schultz wondered. 'How did he throw Jaeger through three walls like that? I don't know if even I could equal that. Obviously, this stranger hasn't been given our great, miraculous gift, so how is he able to match or maybe better our feats of strength? What the hell is he?'

As Schultz continued to stare at Clark, Clark broke the momentary silence while gesturing past him towards the chamber where Indy was being held. "I need the man back there. You WILL turn him over to me, now."

Clark's words broke Schulz's paralysis. Unfortunately, even after Clark's demonstration with Jaeger, Schultz remembered he had been told to guard the man in the black Cathedral even if it meant sacrificing his own life. When the four of them had first sworn their oath of fealty, they had laughed. With their new abilities, who could possibly challenge them? Now Schultz understood; there were others of great power also abroad in the world and one of them had found his way here tonight. However Schultz had seen some of horrible, demonic things his masters were capable of and suddenly realized he was still more afraid of failing them than he was of this stranger.

Clark had expected the other man to back down and didn't catch the flicker of relief in his eyes when Schultz saw Jaeger come creeping back through the debris of the wall he had been thrown through. Therefore he was taken completely by surprise when the other man threw a lightening-fast, devastating right hook to his jaw. Clark's body was swung around by the force of the blow and he slammed face first into the hard stone wall.

As Clark shook his head to clear it and started to use his hands to press his body away from the wall, Schultz took a running start, launched himself into the air, pivoted, and smashed both of his feet solidly into Clark's exposed back. Schultz kicked out hard as he connected and based on the old physics principle of 'equal and opposite reactions', as Clark was forced straight through the wall into the antechamber beyond, Schultz flew backwards across the hall until he collided into the opposite stonewall with sufficient force to break loose several of the two foot by two foot granite blocks.

Clark was momentarily dazed and had just started to sit up when the first granite block came racing through the hole his own body had made. He barely got his arm raised in time to avoid taking it straight in the face. As the block harmlessly shattered against his up stretched arm, a second block exploded through the wall from the corridor further down towards the stairway and slammed into Clark's other shoulder and the side of the head. As Clark was smashed to the ground again, he realized the first man he thought he had disposed of was back in the action again. 'Shit,' thought Clark, 'What does it take to put these guys down?'

The two men in black were hurling blocks at Clark as fast as they could, not giving him a chance to get his balance back. The whole dungeon shook and reverberated as the steady stream of two hundred pound blocks shattered against Clark's body.

After thirty seconds, when the deluge finally stopped, Clark was almost completely obscured under a mountain of rubble. As Clark shifted his body to work his way free of the tons of rock, he used his x-ray vision to check his surroundings and figure out what his two opponents were planning to do next.

Scanning the room, Clark's eyes widened in shock as he realized he was in some ancient torture chamber. The walls were festooned with chains and manacles. In one corner was located a stretching rack and in another was an Iron Maiden. Several tables were strewn with torture devices for breaking hands and feet or crushing fingers, throats, or testicles. At the sight of these implements even Clark's invulnerable balls tried to pull up into his body.

'What is this place?' wondered Clark as he realized some of this equipment had been put to recent use. Suddenly, the reality of the situation hit home. This was not some 'Indiana Jones' movie to be enjoyed for a couple of hours before heading over to The Talon for a coffee and a pastry. No, this was real. If he wasn't careful, some of these devices might be used on his friends. And looking at this equipment it sprang to mind that neither Chloe nor Lana had ever discussed what had happened to them the night before the events in the arena back in Rome. Had they been subjected to devices like these? The damage he had seen on Lana's dead body suggested as much.

It took a strong force of will to get his thoughts away from Chloe, Lana and implements of torture and back on the issue at hand. 'Come on, Kent,' he chastised himself. 'Focus on defeating these guys first.'

Checking his opponents, the first man he had encountered had just finished breaking through the opening created by the stone blocks he had been throwing at Clark. Once he was through the wall, the first thing he did was pick up the biggest, fucking broadsword Clark had ever seen. Clark had always wondered how 'normal' men had been able to lift and swing such heavy swords while already encumbered with nearly eighty pounds of armor. No such wondering about this guy, after seeing him toss heavy stone blocks and now seeing him take a warm-up swing which ripped straight through one of the giant timber beams supporting the ceiling of this room.

As Clark pulled free of his mound of broken blocks he could see he had several seconds before the man with the sword would reach him and swung his gaze to find the other man. He found this guy running down the corridor in the direction of the door to the chamber where Indy was being held. If that man reached Indy first, Clark had no idea what he would do, but it couldn't be good. And Clark still needed Indy alive and functioning four days from now to retrieve the alien artifact during the opening ceremonies of the Olympics.

Quickly, Clark grabbed several medium-size chunks of rock and threw them at the man with the sword to distract him for a couple of seconds. Then Clark grabbed a larger chunk of rock and raced for the corridor. If they were going to throw stones at him, he was going to show them how hard he could return the favor.

When Clark reached the corridor the man had almost reached the door to Indy's 'cell'. As Clark raised his block over his head to throw it, his target suddenly dove to the ground. Almost before the sound registered in his ears, a stream of heavy machine gun bullets started slamming into Clark's back from the direction of the stairwell.

Compared to the massive blocks his two supernaturally strong opponents had been throwing, these bullets seemed like little more than a barely painful series of mosquito bites. But Clark could feel his anger start to grow and grow; he needed to get to Indy if he was going to save Chloe and these assholes kept trying harder and harder to get in his way. Grrrr. And now the uncontrolled burning sensation in his eyes was coming back and it hadn't felt this bad since the events back in the Roman arena.

"ENOUGH!" screamed Clark. "THE KID GLOVES ARE COMING OFF RIGHT NOW."

For those few seconds even the sound of the steady hammering of the machine guns had been drowned out. Then, still holding the massive stone block over his head, Clark turned towards the men in the stairwell with the guns. With the bullets now shredding the front of his suit before harmlessly bouncing off of his chest, Clark heaved the block in their direction putting all of his pent-up anger into the throw.

As the stone passed their position at over eight thousand miles an hour, the resulting sonic boom alone shattered the eardrums of the two enlisted men with the machine guns and the officer standing behind them. When the stone collided with the nearby rock wall, it was like a bomb going off. Once again, the entire dungeon shook like there had been an earthquake and the concussion from the blast drove the enlisted men into unconsciousness. The officer, who had been standing in a more sheltered position, went stumbling back up the stairs with blood dripping from his ears, nose and mouth.

Clark could still feel the burning in his eyes building and knew he would have to release his heat vision soon. His two opponents might be able to match his strength, but they didn't seem to have his speed or his other abilities. As he looked quickly around to check the position of his opponents, his x-ray vision spotted the solution to both his need to neutralize his opponents and his upcoming heat vision overload.

Accelerating up to his fastest 'speed mode', where time seemed to almost stand still, Clark raced down towards the opponent still lying on the floor near the door to Indy's chamber. As he scooped him up, Clark realized this guy was afraid of being shot by bullets. Apparently, they had some limits after all.

Tossing the man over his shoulder, Clark turned and headed back to the torture chamber where the other man waited, looking like a statue with a raised sword due to the 'speed mode' effect. Tossing the second man over his other shoulder, Clark raced back out into the hallway and turned towards the hole in the wall by the stairwell where he first thrown the first man, what was it? Only ninety seconds ago?

Reaching the hole in the wall, Clark bulled his way through using his opponent's bodies as battering rams to widen the opening. Then he raced on to the second stone wall and did the same thing. Finally, only the solid rock face remained in front of him, solid rock that extended for hundreds of feet. Hundreds of feet except for a roughly fifteen foot spherical cavity located about thirty feet back and ten feet up from his current position, a perfect chamber to hold these two men for the present and also a way to get rid of his heat vision overload.

Barely slowing his pace, Clark released his pent-up heat vision towards the solid rock wall while keeping his eyes trained in the direction of the cavity he had spotted. The intervening rock simply vaporized away under Clark's powerful glare leaving a circular eight foot diameter tunnel. In a fraction of a second his heat vision punched a path through the thirty feet of rock and Clark ran up into the cavity. As he dumped his two opponents into the pit formed by the bottom of the cavity, he tightened his vision and bored a three inch diameter air passage through an additional thirty feet of rock to the surface. Satisfied they wouldn't immediately suffocate, Clark backed down his self-made tunnel towards the dungeon. As he went, he again widened the field of his heat vision and managed to slightly reduce the intensity. Now, instead of instantly vaporizing the rock, his heat vision turned it into a sluggish, molten mass like the lava from a Hawaiian volcano just before it reaches the sea. Slowly, steadily, the hole he had bored through the rock resealed with a giant plug of melted stone.

Finally, as he stepped once more onto the floor of the dungeon, his burning anger and burning heat vision abated and he could pause to review his handiwork. Thirty feet of once more solid rock enclosed his opponents in all directions. That should hold even them for the time being. Now it was time to see about finishing the job of rescuing Indy.

Clark headed down the corridor to the last chamber where he could still see with his x-ray vision the man tied to the chair, although probably as a result of the battle in the corridor, the chair had tumbled over on its side. 'Wouldn't it be a letdown,' thought Clark, 'if after all that, it wasn't Indy down there?'

As he walked, calmly, sedately down the corridor now that the battle was finally over, Clark happened to glance down. His shirt and suit coat hung from his shoulders in shreds. Well, he thought, being pummeled by rocks and then taking hundreds of rounds of machine gun fire will do that to you. At least his pants were more or less intact. Deciding it would be somehow easier to explain being shirtless than explaining the current state of his attire, he stripped off the remains of his jacket and shirt and tossed them behind a convenient pile of rubble, of which there were plenty. This was not the first time his clothing had been destroyed in some combat situation. As he walked the rest of the way to the end of the hallway, Clark pondered how to obtain some clothing better suited to his recent rough and tumble lifestyle. Perhaps when this whole adventure was over and Chloe was restored, he should bring the subject up with her since she seemed to have so many ideas.

Reaching the door, Clark was mildly surprised to see it swing open with the lightest pull. But then if the man inside was tied to a chair and the hallway was guarded by two men such as he had just defeated, a lock did seem rather pointless. Stepping into the chamber, he found the whole atmosphere changed. The hallway had been lit by a long string of bare light bulbs suspended on a chain from the ceiling, but here the only lighting was provided by two rows of torches. As his eyes adjusted, Clark realized this chamber had been created to look like some obscene variation of a gothic cathedral. A high vaulted ceiling directed his attention from his current position at the entrance to the far end where a large altar stood. In front of the altar the man he was seeking lay bound to the tumbled-over chair at the center of a large, black marble pentacle inlaid into natural gray granite of the floor of the chamber.

As he made his way down the eighty foot length of this cathedral dedicated to evil, Clark couldn't help but look up at the walls. Where a normal cathedral would have large stain glass windows to fill the interior with God's purifying light, this place had murals and frescoes filled with demons, torture, death, and other visions that could only be straight from hell. Under the flickering torchlight some of the vile creatures in the paintings almost seemed to be moving. Clark hoped it was just a case of too many late night horror movies while growing up that was causing his current unease, but his legs of their own volition seemed to be picking up his pace.

However the worse was yet to come. As he approached the altar, the large black inverted cross mounted to the wall behind it came into clearer view. And that was when he realized what he had first taken as a life-sized carved crucifix of Christ mounted upside-down on the cross was actually a real body. Based on the similar crucifixions they had seen back in ancient Rome, this body was fresh, not more than a couple of days dead. What was going on here? This place was not just some relic from the distant dark ages of mankind, but was in current use. Who were these people? Why hadn't any of this come to light at the end of the war like the concentration camps had?

Finally Clark tore his vision away from the perverted cross with its gruesome cargo and looked down at the bound man before him. Like Clark, the man was stripped to the waist. At first glance the man didn't appear to have been tortured, but then Clark took in the large black electrical box lying nearby on the floor. Heavy cables disappeared off into the distance while two smaller cables with metallic paddles on the ends were coiled near the man's body. Even now when Clark looked closer he could see small spasms twitching the muscles under the exposed flesh. They had been using electric shocks to torture him!

Quickly Clark lifted the chair upright and tore off the heavy ropes binding the man's arms and legs. Finally, he removed the man's blindfold and then lightly shook the man's shoulders.

"Doctor Jones. Can you hear me? You have to wake up." After all of the trouble he had gone through to reach him, this had to be Indiana Jones. Not that he looked anymore like Harrison Ford than Marion looked like Karen Allen. This man had pure black hair, broad shoulders, and a massive chest also thickly covered with black hair. Even seated it was obvious he stood six two or six three. He had high cheek bones and a strong square jaw with just the hint of a dimple at his chin. Frankly, Clark decided, he looked a lot like Tom Selleck in one of his mustache-free periods.

After a few more seconds of shaking, the man moaned, lifted his head, and slowly opened his eyes. Squinting against even the subdued light from the torches, he looked up at Clark.

"Doctor Jones, we . . . ahh, I need your help. That's why I am here, but we need to get moving before more guards show up."

Henry Jones tried to focus his attention on the man in front of him, but it was difficult after the three electric shock sessions he had experienced in the past six hours. Finally, it registered that the strangely shirtless man in front of him was speaking in true American English rather than German or German-accented English.

"Who?" was all he got out and it seemed like barely a whisper, but the man seemed to understand.

"My name is Clark Kent and I am from Smallville, Kansas. I have some friends who are in trouble and only you can save them."

Jones stared incredulously at the man. A man, who as his vision cleared and adjusted to the lighting, seemed little more than a boy, certainly not as old as many of his students back at the University. How had he gotten here? Was this just another ploy to get him to talk? Was this boy going to turn out to be like Elsa Schneider back in Venice? A supposed ally, but ultimately just a Nazi stooge?

This time Jones' voice was stronger as he answered. "Don't try your mind games on me. I don't know the answers you are looking for."

Clark realized Jones didn't believe what he was saying. And he couldn't really blame him. How could he explain penetrating to this well guarded secret chamber all by himself? How could he convince him so he wouldn't have to drag him out of here kicking and screaming?

As he was pondering what to say, Clark felt the phone in his pants pocket begin to vibrate. In all of the excitement he had forgotten it was there and frankly, after the events of the last few minutes, he was surprised it was still working.

Pulling the cylinder from his pocket, he flicked it on. "Hey."

"Clark, where are you? It has felt like a steady stream of small earthquakes. Is that you?" asked Lana. Her whispered voice seemed very loud in this quiet subterranean chamber. Both men could easily hear what she said.

Clark cast a glance at Indy. "Yeah, I am in the dungeon below the chateau. I had to take out a few guards like the men at the hotel to get here. I just found Doctor Jones, but I am having a small problem convincing him I am part of a rescue mission. How is it you are free to call?"

"Clark, switch to video mode, it may help."

Clark pushed a recessed button near the top of the cylinder and then scroll-like, he pulled a paper thin, eight inch wide by five inch tall display screen from the device. Quickly he turned so both he and Indy could see the display as an image of Lana and Marion flared to life.

"Clark, Doctor Jones," said Lana with a small nod of her head. "Marion, Whitney, and I are locked in the ballroom on the main level of the chateau. All of the shaking and explosions started shortly after we arrived. When it did, the guards raced out of the room and left us locked inside."

"Lana, we'll be on our way soon," answered Clark as he took another glance around. "I don't know what we have stumbled into, but it is definitely some weird shit. This chamber we are in looks like a church from hell. There is even an upside-down body crucified on an inverted cross over the altar."

As Lana and Clark talked, Jones was staring at the screen. He had never seen or even heard of anything like it. The image was so clear and vibrant; it was almost like the women were in the same room. Even the new color movies didn't look this real. And from a device that was as thin as a sheet of paper. How was it possible? Was it magic?

Jones looked at his wife and abruptly interjected. "Mar, are you okay?"

Marion's face on the screen nodded. "Hank, I don't know who these kids are, but I trust them."

Before Jones could respond, both women looked up at something off screen.

"Clark, someone is coming. Hurry," said Lana.

As the screen went blank, Jones just had time to see his wife mouth, 'I love you.'

End of Chapter 8

Author's Note

Well, the action in this arc of the story is starting to ramp up. Hopefully, this chapter and the next couple will at least equal the climatic action sequences in the previous story.

So, did I drop enough hints as to what the mysterious biblical relic is? A hint, if you 'Google' the right phrase in this chapter you will have a good idea. Or you will have wait until the next chapter :)

Until next time.

Duane


	9. Biological Families Chapter 9

Biological Families

Author: duane at duaneaakre dot com

Disclaimer: As always I own nothing. Well I own a house, two cars, a pair of jetskis, and a lot of other junk, but none of these characters.

Story Rating: R The story may drift into the HBO range rather than stay in the WB range, so to be on the safe side, I am rating this R.

Chapter 9

Lana quickly retracted the screen and barely had time to jam the cylinder back into the side pocket of her skirt before the door to the ballroom banged open and a man in the uniform of a SS Major stepped in, followed by the two men in black from the encounter at the hotel and the subsequent van ride. This major had escorted them from the van to this room when they had first arrived and then he had quickly departed when the violent shaking had started to emanate from the lower levels of the facility. Now he was back and this time he had a MP-40 submachine gun slung from his shoulder in addition to the Luger pistol at his belt. His two henchmen were still unarmed, but given their incredible strength, weapons hardly seemed necessary.

Major Johann Biberach looked liked the typical SS officer, as somehow they always seemed to be the antithesis of the Aryan ideal. Frankly, as Lana once again glanced at the men in the room, Whitney was by far the closest to the Aryan standard of tall, blond, and handsome. No, none of these terms described the Major who was barely taller than Lana, had greasy black hair, and had the mousy expression of a little man who enjoyed ordering bigger men around.

"Now that whatever problem was going on in the lower levels seems to have been taken care of," he began in heavily accented English. "We can finally get down to business. I am Major Biberach."

Nodding to Marion, he continued. "Mrs. Jones, I recognize you from your photos. And if I might say, they don't do you justice. And who are your two young companions?"

Before Marion had a chance to respond Lana stepped forward. "I am Lana Lang and this is Whitney Fordman. We are part of the U.S. Olympic Team. My mother is an old friend of Mrs. Jones and since we were all in Berlin at the same time, we stopped by to chat and to see if Marion and her husband would like to be our guests at the opening ceremonies. We had barely gotten seated when those two men," and Lana stabbed her finger towards the two men in black standing by the door. "Broke into the Jones' suite and dragged us all out, all except our friend and fellow competitor, Clark Kent. These men threw him through a wall and, I am very much afraid, probably left him seriously hurt. I thought they were just street thugs, but now I see they work for you.

"Well," and here Lana folded her arms and put a particularly smug expression on her face like she was a pampered athlete who always expected people to bend over backwards for her. "I don't know why you kidnapped us, but when I get back to the Olympic Village, I am going to get the U.S. Olympic Committee to submit a formal protest to your government. I think this little game you are playing is going to spoil all of the hard work the German government has put into hosting these games. I mean . . . oh, what is that saying? Ah, yes, to quote the Fuehrer, 'All propaganda has to be popular.' I don't know about you, but to me kidnapping, injuring, and perhaps killing American Olympic competitors doesn't sound like popular propaganda."

A frown briefly crossed Major Biberach's face before he responded. "I am well versed in the ideology of 'Mein Kampf', Miss Lang. Regardless of what it says, in this instance not all of us in the Nazi party are enamored with the idea of hosting the Olympics, which is a legacy we inherited from the previous government. Some of the leadership in the foreign affairs department felt this was an opportunity that could be used to the advantage of the government, but only if it doesn't hinder other, more important activities. And tonight falls into the 'other activities' category. Be very careful young lady, or you will have much more immediate concerns than filing complaints with your Olympic Committee."

"Now," he continued, turning his attention back to Marion. "Mrs. Jones, your husband has some information I need and you are going to help me obtain it. This can be easy or difficult, your choice."

Stalling for time, Lana jumped back into the conversation. "What are you going to do? Torture us?"

Biberach looked back at Lana. "If necessary."

Suddenly, Lana had a strong feeling of deja vu. A feeling that the scene played out between Venta, Chloe, and herself back in a dungeon in Rome was repeating itself. Only this time she realized she would have to play the Chloe part. She had to keep their attention and, if it came to it, the torture focused on herself. Only she could survive any pain and injuries they might try to inflict without permanent damage. But as the memories came flooding back of her previous experience of red hot pokers burning through her flesh, her fingernails savagely ripped out, and finally Venta's thumb pushing through her right eye to the very back of its socket, Lana could feel her panic rising. 'Come on, Lana, keep it together,' she thought to herself. 'The others are depending on you. And this time Clark knows where we are and he is only minutes away.'

Trying to force some humor into her voice, as she knew Chloe would do in this situation, Lana retorted in her most sultry tone. "Eww, hurt me, baby. I hope you are good, as I have been tortured by the best."

The Major looked at the pretty, petite girl, who was obviously not more than sixteen years old. He didn't know what game she was trying to play, but she certainly had no idea of the things he was capable of doing. Or the things he had already done down in the black cathedral. The tortures, mutilations, and human sacrifices he had performed to conjure aid for their cause from the dark planes. No, this girl had no concept of what he was capable of doing to reach his masters' goals of dominion over this world. He would do whatever was necessary to obtain the information they needed from Doctor Jones. And if the girl was still alive after he got the information, well, he might teach her the true meaning of pain.

"You look a little young to have any experience with torture."

Lana gave Biberach a little smile and for just an instant he saw something in her eyes that sent a whisper of fear down his spine.

"Oh, I am a little older than I look. Almost nineteen hundred years ago I spent a night in the torture chamber of the Roman leader of the Praetorian Guard, a very long, unpleasant night. He too was looking for some information from me."

Biberach stared at her. What was she talking about?

"What? From the expression on your face you don't seem to believe me," continued Lana. Then she waved her hand to indicate the two men in black still standing near the double doors leading out of the ballroom. "This from someone who has two supernaturally strong men working for him and who also practices 'Black Masses' to the demon Baphomet in the dark temple in the lowest subterranean vault of this old Templar citadel."

"How?" Biberach began at barely more than a whisper before he caught himself and closed his mouth. But he continued the thought silently to himself. 'How does she know about the temple to the mighty Lord Baphomet? The only people outside this facility who know of it are all members at the highest level of the order.'

Lana read the mostly unstated question in his face. "How do I know of the temple? When you have been around forever like me, you end up knowing all kinds of secrets, like how to read the glyphs carved into the lintel over the entrance to this chateau. However, a more important question you should be asking is, what happened to the leader of Praetorians who tortured me on that long ago day?"

Biberach was just staring numbly at her.

"Well, I'll take your silence as a sign you are still interested. The Roman leader, oh by the way his name was Patricus Gasparus Venta; he ultimately died at my hand after trying to execute me in the arena." Okay, Lana would admit that technically that was a white lie. It was Laura who was wielding the spear that day. But since Laura was using Lana's body at the time, from all outward appearances it had been Lana who dispatched Venta.

"Now, I think you should consider your next actions carefully before you end up just like the Praetorian leader."

Biberach continued to look at her for a moment before slowly nodding his head. "Nice fairy tale," he began, then he quirked an eyebrow before continuing. "Are you trying to stall me? This is not some American Western movie. The cavalry is not going to be riding in to save you. You are in the heart of Nazi Germany. Try to stall all you want, the end will be the same."

In her mind Lana sagged a little; her Roman story was not having the desired effect. Perhaps the similar style of conversation Chloe had held with Venta had work longer because Venta had been a fellow time-traveler. Or perhaps Chloe was just a more convincing story teller; she certainly had had a lot more practice. Lana tried to quickly think of something else to keep the conversation going until the cavalry named 'Clark' showed up. 'Hurry, Clark,' she thought, 'before someone gets hurt.' Although she was no longer certain how quickly Clark would be there, as for the past couple of minutes her enhanced body could detect faint vibrations through the floor. These vibrations were nowhere near the intensity of the earthquake-like shaking from earlier; they felt more like the steady, rhythmic pounding of sledgehammers on a solid concrete floor or wall. Had Clark run into more trouble?

Therefore when the door to ballroom slammed open, Lana was briefly hopeful it was Clark coming to their rescue, but she was not hugely surprised when it was not. No, the man who came staggering through the entrance was another German officer. Although this officer's uniform was no longer pristine black like Major Biberach's. Instead, it was so heavily coated with gray dust it almost matched the color of the uniform used by the German Luftwaffe. Destroying that illusion were his face, hands, and hair, which were also coated with the gray dust. Actually, Lana realized, the only parts of the man which were not grey were his frantic, wild green eyes and the lower portions of his face and neck where his own red blood had washed away some of the obscuring dust.

One of the men in black grabbed this new officer's arm to keep him erect as he staggered into the room. Major Biberach quickly turned his attention away from his captives.

"Captain Hoffman, what happened to you?" He quickly asked in German, his voice pitched half an octave higher than normal.

Captain Hermann Hoffman's ears were still ringing loudly from the events he had witnessed down in the dungeon and only with extreme difficulty was he able to make out what Major Biberach said.

Still gasping for breathe after the long run up the many flights of stairs, Hoffman answered, also in German. "Sir . . . there's a man down in the dungeon fighting against Schultz and Jaeger . . . and the stranger is winning! . . . I had two of my men open fire on him with their machine guns and the bullets just seemed to bounce off his body. . . . He must be there to rescue Doctor Jones and . . . I don't know how we're going to stop him."

Marion's grasp of German was good enough to follow most of the man's comments and it left her looking at Lana and Whitney in shock. What was going on? Who were these kids? This Captain Hoffman had to be talking about Lana's friend Clark, who she had just seen on that magical viewing device with Hank down in the dungeon. How could bullets just bounce off his body? Then there was Lana with all of her knowledge about long-lost, ancient civilizations and her obvious skills with numerous languages. And her story about being torture by the Roman Praetorian Guard thousands of years ago, could it be true? The look Marion had seen in Lana's eyes for just a second as she had started to talk about having been tortured sure made it look like she had been telling the truth. Who were these kids?

Major Biberach stared incredulously at Captain Hoffman. Someone was down there that might defeat his supernaturally enhanced guards? What was going on? "Thank you, Captain. Go have your injuries looked to and then report back here."

Hoffman nodded and staggered back out the door. Biberach signaled to the men in black to re-secure the doors before turning back to his captives.

Lana could see the shock in the Major's face and tried to take advantage of the situation. Perhaps she could intimidate him into just letting them go.

"Major Biberach," began Lana, now also speaking in German, that language's guttural consonants helping to add a cold, steely edge to her voice. "This may be the heart of Nazi Germany, but I do believe, as you put it, the cavalry is about to arrive. Let us go now and you might come out of this mostly unscathed."

Lana's tone unfortunately had the opposite effect on Biberach from what she had been trying to achieve. Biberach hated people who took a superior tone with him. He might for the moment have to tolerate it from his masters, but he never let anyone below him get away with it. And he certainly wasn't going to take it from a prisoner. Particularly since her comment was untrue. He most definitely would not come through this unscathed, if he let them go. No, if he was unsuccessful in this endeavor, his own leaders might sacrifice him down in the black cathedral.

"No, the stranger down in the dungeon just proves I am on the right track. It is possible to make my special agents not only strong, but also completely invulnerable. It is still just a matter of getting Doctor Jones to divulge the secret to me." Biberach needed to think for a moment. An exchange of Mrs. Jones for the information was still possible, but he needed to get clear of here and get things back under his control. He needed Marion and there might be some advantage to also taking the other girl. Perhaps she would provide some leverage over this stranger or at least it would be interesting to see how, after all of her bravado, she would react to some real torture. Hmm. . . .

"Frenkel, Hein, we need to move quickly. Grab the women; we are relocating until we better understand what is going on here. We will take them to the Hitler." As he finished speaking, Biberach raised his MP-40 submachine, drew back the cocking lever, and released the safety catch. Turning, he swung the gun towards Whitney, who had been hanging back the whole time cradling his supposedly broken arm. Pulling the trigger, Biberach emptied the twenty seven round clip into Whitney's body.

From the moment the dust coated German officer had entered the room and the conversation had switched entirely to German, Whitney had had no idea what was going on. He was taken completely by surprise when the Major turned the machine gun on him and opened fire. He wasn't able to do anything to defend himself, not that there was much he could do since he didn't have Clark's invulnerability or speed. Therefore as the first few rounds caught Whitney low in the belly, he started to double over in shock and pain. Then as Biberach slowly swept the gun up, the repeated impacts forced Whitney to stagger and then begin to fall backwards. The final three rounds caught him directly in the face.

Whitney was dead before his body hit the floor with a sickening thud. His head ended up tilted back at an unnatural angle since the three rounds to the face had removed most of the back of his skull with their passage.

-------------------

Shock. Lana stood there frozen by the sudden, unexpected violence of Biberach's actions. She didn't even remember her enhanced healing abilities until one of Biberach's incredibly strong henchmen grabbed her and started to drag her towards the door.

The movement finally jolted her brain back into motion and without even seeming to think about it, a digital readout started to countdown in the corner of her mind. Four minutes and forty five seconds left to save Whitney. And she couldn't necessarily count on Clark getting there in time. She knew if she didn't do something quickly, before she was manhandled from this room, it would probably be too late.

Screaming Whitney's name at the top of her lungs, she began flailing her arms and legs with all of the desperate strength she could summon, but it did no good against the man's steel grip. He continued to pull her inexorably towards the door. Finally, after a few seconds she forced her body to suddenly go limp. When the man's grip relaxed slightly, she twisted her head until she snagged his right ear with her mouth and bit down, hard.

Superhuman strength or not, having his ear almost completely bitten off got Wolfgang Hein's attention. Reflexively, he shoved Lana away, momentarily forgetting his own strength. Lana flew across the large room, a portion of his ear still trapped between her teeth. The taste of his blood in her mouth made the vampire story they had fed to Lionel Luthor pop into her head. If only she had thought to bite her own lip first, she could have transferred some of her 'bots into the man and then she might have been able to gain control of his body.

These thoughts and others flashed through her mind in the three seconds it took for her body to fly across the width of the ballroom before she crashed to a stop against the large ornate fireplace. As she hit, a blinding stab of pain shot out from her left knee before her nanobot network shut down the pain receptors in that portion of her body. Sliding down from her impact point eight feet above the floor, she came to rest in a tumbled heap; her body tangled amongst an assortment of fireplace implements.

Feeling the relentless ticking of the clock in her head, Lana didn't even consider waiting the nine seconds it would take for her body to heal. Quickly, she tore the already weakened seam on the right side of her skirt all the way up to her hip. She knew a fight was inevitable to maintain contact with Whitney until he was healed and if she was going to have a chance, she would need unrestricted movement of her legs. Then grabbing a pointed fireplace poker in each hand, she struggled up on her one good leg and started to hop in the direction of Whitney's body. As she moved, she waved the pokers about, partly to maintain her balance and partly out of raging anger.

"Nobody fucks with my boyfriend!" she yelled over and over as she made her way back across the room. As she moved, her anger towards Major Biberach, his henchmen, and Nazis in generally grew and grew until it felt like it was going to utterly consume her. However, even in her extremely agitated stated, she still had the presence of mind to activate Chloe's nanobot combat persona - giving it the simple instruction to maximize her physical contact with Whitney's body until he was healed.

In Chloe's nineteen thousand year long life, she had been in countless combat situations with weapons ranging from swords to knifes to spears to weapons long lost in antiquity to sometimes nothing but her bare hands and feet. Her enhanced body, which could predict most opponents' moves several seconds in advance based on her vast accumulated experience and immense processing power, in combination with her near instantaneous healing abilities allowed tactics that would be impossible or fatal to anyone else. All of these attributes Chloe had distilled into a fighting program directly controlled by her nanobot network since it could achieve faster reaction times than her 'real' brain. Honed to a fine temper over the last few thousand years, this combat program was one of the gifts, along with her general historical knowledge and language skills, Chloe had passed on to Lana during their first evening together after they returned from ancient Rome to Smallville.

While Lana retained control of her vocal cords to continue venting her fury, the nanobot program took control of the rest of her body. Its first action was to kick off her high-heel shoes; bare feet would double the number of appendages that could be used to maintain contact with Whitney's body. As she neared Whitney, her damaged knee was almost one hundred percent recovered, but the 'bot system estimated that since the first opponent would reach her slightly before she could reach Whitney anyway, the element of surprise would be more valuable than a short burst of speed.

Wolfgang Hein, a steady trickle of blood streaming from his mangled ear, advanced on the hobbling girl. He, too, was seething with anger. Since he had been given his great gift, he had been through countless training sessions and even several actual combat situations with the German 'advisors' in the Spanish civil war, all without the slightest injury. Now, some little teenage girl bites off most of his ear. Oh, how she was going to pay for it.

Hein came in swinging at Lana, but her nanobot system was ready. He might be way stronger than a normal man, but going up against a stronger opponent was not an unusual circumstance for Chloe or her bot' based fighting program. No, 99.73 of all her experiences had been against stronger opponents, and therefore her fighting style had much in common with judo and other related martial art styles which emphasized using the opponent's size and strength against him.

At Hein's first wild, right-handed swing, Lana's body ducked low, pivoted around her supposedly injured left leg, and then delivered a reverse roundhouse kick of her right leg to the backside of Hein's right arm while it was still in its follow through motion. The added momentum to his arm swung his whole body through ninety degrees leaving his back exposed. Immediately, Lana's fighting program brought her body around through another spin to a position behind him where she could drive both of the pokers she was carrying straight into Hein's kidneys. Even though the pokers didn't penetrate the enhanced muscles of his back, the combined blow and associated sharp pain was sufficient to drive Hein forward several feet in the direction he was facing before he briefly collapsed to his knees.

In less than three seconds their first exchange was over. Biberach stared at the scene with incredulity. In the past he had seen Hein take on and defeat ten 'normal' men without ever receiving a blow he even seemed to notice. Now, in almost a blink of an eye, this tiny girl had driven him to his knees and she had proceeded on her course to her fallen companion at a run. Where had she learned to fight like that?

Lana reached Whitney's body and rested the toes of her left foot lightly on the splayed fingers of his right hand. Instantly, her 'bot system brought the 'bots in his body online to evaluate the damage and begin the needed repairs. Her eyes scanned the room watching the one called Hein climb back to his feet and turn towards her and the other, named Frenkel, begin his own advance on her position. Finally, after four seconds, which seemed almost like a lifetime, her 'bot system report the extent of Whitney's damage. Numerous internal organs would need repair. Fourteen bones had been shattered by the careening slugs. But most serious of all was the extreme amount of damage to his brain; over forty six percent of his brain tissue had been destroyed. It was going to take thirty two additional seconds of nanobot repair activity, and therefore contact with Lana's body, for his brain to be restored.

Her two super-strong opponents would on her position within five seconds. Completely unasked for by her, the 'bot system put the odds at her being able to maintain her position against two such powerful adversaries for thirty seconds at twenty-seven to one. 'Don't quote me the odds,' she shot back at the 'bot system. Then, an unexpected giggle forced its way to the surface as she realized she had just used a quote by Han Solo in the Star Wars movies. Han Solo who was played by Harrison Ford. The Harrison Ford who also played Indiana Jones. The movie version of the real Dr. Henry Jones who was currently in this very building somewhere with Clark. The Clark who was going to have to hurry, if he was going to rescue them.

As they approached the girl, Christoph Frenkel glanced over at his compatriot, Wolfgang Hein. Hein was moving a little more cautiously than on his first charging attack, but still seemed intent on a quick, brute force approach. Frenkel was no longer quite so certain what they were up against.

Of the four men who had been granted the gift of superhuman strength, only Frenkel had been brought up in a traditional Prussian military family. While the other three were barely more than street thugs who had had the good fortune of being associated with the Nazi movement from the earliest 'Brown Shirt' days in Munich, he had trained at the same Prussian military academy in Wahlstatt, albeit a few years later, as the now legendary Manfred von Richthofen. A traditional military academy with its roots in the fencing schools of the medieval German City-States, to this day it continued to emphasize the classics like chivalry, equine skills, and swordsmanship.

Frenkel, too, had been shocked at how easily the girl had put Hein onto the ground, but he recognized bits and pieces of her fighting style. Legwork like hers was almost never seen in European fighting styles, but when he had been sixteen, a Japanese sword master had spent six months teaching at his academy as part of an exchange program. The master had taught both sword-fighting and unarmed combat. The unarmed combat made extensive use of the roundhouse style of kick the girl had used. The Japanese sword fighting style made less use of the kicking movements than the unarmed combat, but still used the legs as offensive weapons far more than any European style.

Now, looking at the girl standing next to the body of her fallen friend with her two improvised swords held straight out parallel to the floor with one pointed at each of her opponents, he would have guessed, if not for his time with the Japanese master, she was trying to modify the standard 'Langer Ort' position for use with two weapons. The 'Langer Ort' position was a common style for stabbing weapons like foils, or in this case fireplace pokers. However he recognized this position was not 'Langer Ort', but rather a simple variation of the opening position of the Japanese 'Nito Ichi Ryu' two sword fighting style used when opposed by multiple foes. He had seen the Japanese master, using wooden practice swords, take on and beat four European saber masters simultaneously. And the master had started from the same basic position as the girl was now using. A roundhouse kick and this particular fighting stance indicated the girl had trained with a Japanese master at some time in her life, which was itself very unusual given the traditional Japanese view of women's place in society.

Still, the girl was using fireplace pokers, not real swords, and without sharpened edges, they were effectively limited to thrusting motions. If they were careful, their vastly superior strength and two-to-one odds should quickly overwhelm her. Not that they were invulnerable to attack, as Hein's missing ear clearly showed. Their gift made their muscles incredibly strong and tough. However, several areas on their bodies were not covered by muscle and these locations were susceptible to a thrusting style of attack. The four of them were aware of this Achilles-like weakness, but were loath to discuss it, even among themselves. Fortunately, the eyes, ears, nose, and Adam's apple were small targets and none of them had suffered a serious injury to date. However this girl knew they could be hurt and if her martial knowledge and skills were as good as the first exchange indicated, she would certainly focus on their weaknesses.

Then the girl did something Frenkel never expected in this situation, she started to giggle. At first he thought the situation had finally gotten to her and she was becoming hysterical, but then he noticed how the fireplace pokers never wavered. Was this all some game to her? He flashed back to Captain Hoffman's warning about the man fighting Schultz and Jaeger down on the dungeon level. A man he claimed was defeating them. A man he claimed was bullet-proof. A man apparently associated with this girl. Did she too have enhanced abilities beyond what she had shown so far? It was apparent the boy lying on the floor in the pool of blood didn't, but that didn't guarantee the same thing about her. No, Frenkel decided, perhaps it was best to hang back a little and let Hein have another shot at her to give himself a little more time to observe her skills before he committed to this fight.

As Frenkel paused to watch, Hein waded in, although this time he adopted more of a boxer's stance with his arms held in relatively tight to his body. Almost instantly the girl seemed to sense she was only going to have to deal with one opponent for the moment and fluidly repositioned her weapons. When he was in range, Hein threw a short jab with his right hand at the girl's face. Or at least where her face was, thought Frenkel. She seemed to start pivoting out of the way before he even saw Hein's arm move. And before Hein's arm was fully extended, the girl landed a sharp rap on the exposed wrist with both of her pokers. Hein immediately jumped back and then took a moment to shake out his right hand.

Frenkel tried to understand what had just happened. He had been through many training sessions and several 'real world' situations. He had taken hits on his arms and hands with wooden clubs, steel pipes, and other weapons and they had hardly been painful or even noticeable. Yet the girl only delivered a couple of modest blows and now Hein's hand was obviously hurting him. How was that possible?

Hein's hand might be bothering him; it wasn't enough to prevent him from trying again. This time he rushed straight at her with his arms spread wide, going for a bear hug. For a moment the girl seemed frozen in place, then abruptly her weapons danced out a rapid pattern on the inside of Hein's left arm between the elbow and the armpit before she rolled out of his way.

As Frenkel watched, Hein's momentum carried him past the girl and the body on the floor. Before he rumbled to a stop, Hein was already bellowing in a combination of rage and pain. Frenkel was startled to the see the arm the girl had attacked dangling lifelessly at the side of Hein's body. She hadn't hit Hein very hard so how had she taken out his arm?

Hein swung back around, his eyes blazing with anger. He raised his right arm with its fingers spread as though they were going to reach out and tear the girl's heart straight from her chest. And then he charged.

At this point, the fight had lasted twelve seconds and so far Lana had been able to maintain contact with Whitney's body almost the entire time. Not that any of it had been of her own doing. This fight had been one of the most unusual and disconcerting things she had ever experienced, letting someone or something have complete control of her body. It was almost like sitting back and watching a movie, a movie that was going on all around her. Is this what virtual reality games would feel like in the future, she wondered? It did sort of feel like she was living in a video game, one where she had enhanced fighting abilities and the cheat codes for unlimited health.

However, if she thought experiencing the fight so far as an almost powerless bystander had been disconcerting, what happened next almost made her feel like she was going to throw up, which was a bizarre feeling when you had no control over your own body.

Hein came at her again, this time with one arm hanging uselessly at the side of his body and a manic gleam in his eyes. It was obvious by this time Chloe's combat program had uncovered the weaknesses of these enhanced men. And neither Chloe nor her program had Clark's self-imposed limits to not hurt anyone if it was at all possible to avoid it. No, when the opponent attacked again, but this time with most of his defenses down, Lana watched in horror as her body drove one of the pokers into Hein's right eye and then grasped his good arm and tossed him to the ground in a classic judo move.

As everyone in the room looked on, Hein hit the floor with a loud thump. His screams of rage abruptly became screams of pain as he grabbed at his ruined eye and rolled into a fetal position.

Frenkel stared at where Hein lay writhing on the floor in obvious pain. No way should that little girl, who couldn't weigh over forty five kilos, be able to do that to a tough street brawler like Hein. Hell, even without his 'gift', Hein should have made short work of the girl. But the girl had moves and fighting skills Frenkel had never seen before. At first he thought it was the result of working with a Japanese sword master like the one he had known back at the academy, but he had never witnessed anyone able to do what the girl had just done. She just seemed to hit certain spots on Hein's body to incapacitate the selected area. And she wasn't even hitting very hard.

Based on their sparring matches at the training center, Frenkel knew Hein was better at unarmed combat than he was. In eighteen matches, the record stood at Hein, sixteen and Frenkel, two. If Hein couldn't take the girl, what were his own chances? No, thought Frenkel, I don't want her taking out my eye, or worse.

Quickly, Frenkel scanned the room for a weapon and immediately his attention was caught by the display of ceremonial swords mounted on a nearby wall. Breaking into a run, it took only a couple of seconds to reach the display, shatter the protective glass, and grab a pair of the swords. They might be gaudy display pieces with fancy pearl handles and jewel encrusted hilts, but they still had real blades and sharpened edges.

Turning, Frenkel ran back towards the girl, but paused while three meters away, still out of range. He took a moment to look at her and realized how mismatched they were. Suddenly, she looked hardly older than a child with her fireplace pokers grimly held in an 'en garde' position. What was he doing, getting ready to use swords against a young girl armed only with pokers? What would his Fechtmeister say, if he could see him now? Suddenly, all of the time the Fechtmeister had spent drilling him on the importance of fighting with honor came pouring back into him. Was this the way a Prussian gentleman behaved?

--------------------

Lana watched as the second man paused in front of her. She had gotten past the shock of how viciously the 'bot system had taken out the first man and was instead thinking about how quickly it had all happened. Considering Hein had the strength of at least ten men, the 'bot system had made surprisingly short work of him. Only twenty one seconds had passed since she had first reached Whitney and she had been able to maintain contact with him for seventeen of those. She only needed fifteen more seconds to see Whitney fully healed.

Lana had never activated this fighting program before and was surprised to find it was a complete personality, not just a bunch of computer software. Suddenly, it was like having another person in her head. She almost expected the personality to be like Bruce Lee or some other martial arts wizard, but of course, it was based on Chloe.

'Chloe, is it really you?' Lana asked the Chloe-analog.

Suddenly Lana found herself sitting in her favorite booth at the Talon, the one with the best view of the Egyptian mural on the ceiling of what had once been the refreshment area of the old theater. Chloe walked up with a pot of coffee in one hand and in the other two royal blue mugs inscribed in gold with the words, 'The Talon', between two stylized figures of a Sphinx.

Chloe gave a familiar grin as she slid into the seat on the opposite side of the booth. Then the grin slipped a little and she let out a small sigh. 'Well, yes and no, it is sort of complicated. I was Chloe, at least we share the same memories of the first seventeen thousand years, but then there were the unexpected events in the arena back in Rome where you were killed and I ended up in your body.'

'You're . . . ah . . . you're Laura? I don't understand,' said Lana with an increasingly uncomfortable expression on her face.

'Lana, don't worry. This is not like last time. You can retake control of your body whenever you want. I am just here to help in situations like this. Or when you need advice or just want to chat.'

Lana nodded. Now that Chloe, no, Laura had brought it to her attention, she simply 'knew' what was necessary to resume control of her body. 'I still don't understand how you are here.'

'I . . . we . . . damn this is awkward. I hope you don't mind, but since Chloe and I were the same person for the first seventeen thousand years, I am going to refer to anything in that time period as though it happened to me. It is only after the events in Rome that Chloe and I have different perspectives and experiences.'

Laura paused to take a sip of her coffee and organize her thoughts. 'Let's start with the combat program. Over a long period of time I slowly developed my fighting skills. At first, the nanobot system just collated data from all of my experiences and offered predictions on the opponent's upcoming moves and suggested responses. Gradually, it became apparent the nanobot network with its widely distributed processing power could react faster by itself then could happen when the information had to be passed to my mind and then back to the appropriate muscles in my body. Therefore I slowly gave the 'bot system more autonomy during combat situations. However you need to be very adaptable in combat, sometimes priorities and goals may change in an instant. The program needed to guide the 'bot system in these situations steadily got more and more complex to ensure it would mimic my choices in any given situation. Eventually, the program passed some threshold and effectively became a mirror image of my mind, except it was capable of thinking, acting, and reacting at a significantly higher speed.

'When the 'bots were introduced into your body back in Rome, a copy of the 'bot based version of Chloe was automatically created. Normally this copy is inactive, but in your case the 'bots didn't turn off when Chloe broke physical contact. When your mind shutdown due to the overload of the experience, I was activated. At first I didn't even realize what had happened and thought I was the real Chloe in my own body.'

'I have heard this part before from Lex and Chloe,' said Lana. 'However Chloe never mentioned you the day back in Smallville when she did the data dump to me.'

'Well, she wanted to give you help for situations like this and it could either be a copy of the current 'bot based version of Chloe or it could be me. Since your size and musculature is somewhat different than Chloe's and I already had several weeks of experience in your body, I was the logical choice.' Laura paused to run her right index finger around the rim of her cup a couple of times before continuing in a quieter tone. 'Besides I have developed a certain fondness for you and your body and I wanted to do it.' Laura raised her eyes to Lana and concluded almost shyly. 'I hope you don't mind.'

Lana took a small sip of her own coffee before setting it back down and reaching for a couple of packets of Equal. Unlike Lana, Chloe always did prefer hers black. As she stirred her coffee she thought about this unexpected turn of events. She had expected the combat program to be just that, some software that could help her do some of Chloe's tricks like catching arrows. She never expected she would end up sharing her body with another complete person.

And for that other person to be Laura, the one who had used (or was possessed a better word?) her body for the majority of the time they had been in ancient Rome, could she deal with that? If she counted up the days since she had connected with Lex, Laura had spent almost as many with him as she had.

Laura reached across the table and lightly rested her hand on Lana's. 'Lana, I am not here to steal Lex.'

It was almost as though Laura could read her mind, Lana thought. But then she probably could, two minds in one body and all.

'Lana, that was just an educated guess,' Laura said, recognizing the expression on Lana's face. 'I am not reading your thoughts. If we are going to coexist, we will both need our privacy. I think for the present we should keep things on a verbal level or in virtual places like here.'

Slowly, Lana nodded her head. 'Okay, I guess we can give it a try. However, how about next time we pick someplace besides The Talon? I mean there must be lots of places you have been before to choose from.'

Laura squeezed Lana's hand. 'Deal. I know lots of cool places. It will be fun.'

Lana could see the relief in Laura's eyes. Perhaps they could make this work, but it was probably time to focus on the current situation. And if they were going to make this work, Lana felt she needed to be open about her feelings.

'Laura, did you have to be so brutal with that man? I mean, yeah I am really pissed at them for what they did to Whitney, but it looks like I, ah we, will be able to maintain contact with him long enough to repair the damage."

Laura looked a little chagrin as she sighed and lowered her gaze back to her coffee cup. "Sorry, old habits die hard. In the early days I was a lot like you and didn't want to use more force than necessary. But several times when I let opponents off easy, it just came back to haunt me when they returned and hurt my family and friends. Eventually, I sacrificed a little of my humanity and did what was necessary. Not that it matters, the world seems to have an endless supply of people willing to be mean, vicious, and cruel."

Lana nodded. "Yeah, but did you have to take out his eye? It so brings back memories of Venta and that dungeon."

"Sorry," said Laura. Then she looked at Lana. "So, what do you want to do about this one?"

Lana realized it was like her mind was working on two levels. She was sitting here in The Talon talking to Laura, but at the same time she was equally aware of what was going on in the real world. Although the two levels were operating on extremely different time scales; while they had been having this conversation here, only a fraction of a second had passed in the real world.

Lana shrugged. "I would rather you didn't have to kill him, but do what you must to win."

"Okay," Laura grinned. "Or I could just let him kill you. As long as your body falls on Whitney, you can still heal him. Plus, if they leave your bodies alone here while they make their escape, it gives you the freedom of movement."

Lana almost wanted to take that option. Why were her feelings for Whitney so much stronger tonight? When she was screaming at the Nazis about killing her boyfriend, she had meant it. God, suddenly her feelings for Whitney and Lex were so confused. But she could worry about those thoughts later. At the moment the real question was, who was going to need her help more in the immediate future - Whitney or Marion?

"No, don't let him kill me. I think it is more important we stick with Marion. She may need our help before this is over. If we leave Whitney here, hopefully he can connect up with Clark and Indy."

Laura stood up and gave a silly little bow. "Your wish is my command. Oh, before I focus back on the fight, one other thing. Clark said the last thing Chloe told him down in his storm cellar was that she had obtained a memory from whatever alien force was invading her body of this device you are seeking back here, a memory of the device being handed from a German officer to Dr. Jones. The question I can't get out of my mind is: whose memory was she accessing? Who was there witnessing the exchange and how did that memory end up in Clark's spaceship?"

Lana stared up at Laura. "You mean maybe someone else from Clark's home planet is going to be in the Olympic Stadium during the opening ceremony?"

"I don't know," answered Laura honestly. "But if you take the device straight back to our present, how else does a memory of the event end up in Clark's ship?"

As Lana tried to sort through the implications of what Laura had said, Laura shimmered and vanished from the virtual version of The Talon as she turned her full attention back on the confrontation in the ballroom.

----------------------------------

Laura stared out of Lana's body at this latest threat. This man had all of the astonishing strength of the previous opponent, but this one was armed with a pair of swords. And from the way he held them and the old dueling scar on his right cheek, it was apparent this was not his first experience using them. It would certainly make for a more interesting encounter. She was tempted to egg him on to see if he would make some rash move, but forced herself to remember the main goal was maintaining physical contact with Whitney until he was restored. If the guy facing her wanted to just stare at her for the next fifteen seconds, it would be okay with her. Once Whitney was safe and she was free to move around, the fight would be greatly simplified.

Suddenly, and totally unexpectedly, the man, whose name she remembered was Frenkel, tossed his left hand sword to her. Immediately, Laura dropped her right hand poker and snatched the sword hilt out of the air.

Looking at him, Laura quirked an eyebrow as though to ask 'why?'

Frenkel raised his sword blade up in front of his face in salute. "We have not been formally introduced. I am Christoph Frenkel. Two swords against fireplace pokers hardly seems like a fair fight and I am not some street thug," and here his eyes glanced briefly to where Hein still lay curled up on the floor. "If we are going to do this, there are certain forms to be followed."

Laura gave a brief nod and raised her own sword in salute before lowering it to an en garde position.

"One quick question before we begin," said Frenkel. "How did you incapacitate Hein? I have never seen a fighting style like that."

Laura grinned as the remaining seconds until Whitney would be recovered steadily rolled towards zero. "It is called 'Dim Mak' which roughly translates from Chinese as 'Death Touch'. The human body has numerous pressure points. It doesn't matter how strong you are, touching these points in the right sequence will cause pain, local paralysis, or death, as the practitioner chooses." Keeping in the vein of Lana's earlier comments, Laura continued. "I learned this from the originator of the 'Tai Chi' philosophy almost twenty five hundred years ago in a small village in western China." A slightly more believable lie than the truth that it was developed by the warrior-priests of Lemuria 12300 years earlier at a time when she had been known as the Goddess Fah.

Frenkel stared at the girl, barely comprehending. He had heard of pressure points and the ancient Chinese art of acupuncture, but being able to disable or kill by just touching a few points on the body would have been impossible to believe if he hadn't personally seen what she had done to Hein. And what about her claim of having learned the technique twenty five hundred years ago? Or the earlier comment about having been in ancient Rome. Could they be true? Five years earlier he would have laughed at the suggestion. But he had since been privy to the tales of the order's encounters with the Grail Cup, the Ark of the Covenant, and, of course, his own gift. Strange, unimaginable forces existed in the world. Who was to say if this young-looking girl was part of them?

In the end, it didn't matter, Frenkel knew his duty. The girl had just cause to be angry at what Major Biberach had done to her friend, but he had his orders. With a nod of acknowledgement for the answer to his question, Frenkel raised his sword.

Quickly, Frenkel opened with a classic 'Foyne' thrust to her body. Based on his superior strength, he expected her to respond with a standard Versatzung type of defense since it emphasized deflection and evasion, a method general recommended when going up against a larger opponent. Therefore he was stunned when she stood her ground and responded with a Meisterhau move.

They had studied the Meisterhau in fencing school and his Fechtmeister had demonstrated it in slow motion, but neither the Fechtmeister nor any of the students had ever been able to successfully implement it in a real sparring match. It was first described by the seventeenth century grand master Leichtenauer as one of the four 'master cuts' which needed to be mastered to be considered a world class swordsman. The stroke required a rapid forward thrust which deflected the opponent's blade using the portion of the blade nearest to the hilt while the tip of the blade simultaneously hit the opponent's body. The natural instinct to block the opponent's thrust further out using the central portion of the blade had to be overcome for the Meisterhau to be mastered. And it was highly dangerous to attempt, as the slightest miscalculation left you impaled on your opponent's blade.

The girl was incredibly fast. He had seen it from a distance during her exchanges with Hein. But when that speed was used directly against him, it was down right scary. His initial thrust was hardly halfway extended when her counterattack arrived. One quick lunge, which couldn't have deflected his sword more than one inch beyond what was necessary to prevent it from hitting her, and she was inside his guard. The tip of her sword scored a hit on his left cheek, and in one fluid motion she withdrew.

As Frenkel reflexively jerked back, he heard the girl say, "There. Much better, I have always liked symmetry and balance. Once the new scar has healed, you will be much more handsome, Christoph."

Frenkel couldn't help but reach up and touch the wound. It was a perfect mirror image of the scar that had adorned his right cheek for the seventeen years since he had fought for the academy championship during his senior year. A bout he had gone on to win despite his injury.

He was a much better swordsman than he was an unarmed brawler. He had seen how girl's fighting skills were so good they had completely neutralized Hein's enormous strength advantage. He had hoped his fencing abilities in combination with his great strength would be enough to take her, but after one pass he knew she was way out of his league. Even though he didn't know any move that would counter it, he had at least recognized the move she had used during their first exchange as being from the traditional, old school German style. But what other moves did she have in her repertoire? Did she know some sword fighting techniques equivalent to the 'Dim Mak' style she had used so successfully on Hein?

Frankly, Frenkel was almost relieved when Major Biberach interrupted.

"Miss Lang, you will drop your sword and surrender now, or I will kill Mrs. Jones."

Both Laura and Frenkel turned to see Biberach holding his Luger to the side of Marion's head. Laura almost started to laugh at the way he had to tilt his arm up to reach the temple of the much taller woman. Or perhaps the sudden need to laugh was simply due to knowing the repairs to Whitney's body were finally complete.

Trying to maintain a look of grim determination on her face, Laura made a big show of tossing her sword back to Frenkel. It would be at least several seconds before he would force her to move away from Whitney's body, plenty of time for her and Lana to brief Whitney on the current situation. The only big question was where should they hold the conversation since Lana said she would like to experience a different venue besides The Talon? Hmm . . .

---------------

Whitney felt himself coming awake from a refreshing nap. Slowly, he opened his eyes and then rose up on one elbow to take in his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was the white dress shirt, lightweight off-white linen pants, and tan Indian-style moccasins he was wearing. Next was the large red blanket he was stretched out on. And then Chloe and Lana, both also dressed in white blouses and off-white skirts, sitting on the opposite side of the blanket beside a large wooden picnic basket which they were busily unpacking as they chatted quietly. Something about the situation didn't seem right, but for the moment he couldn't put his finger on it.

Sitting the rest of the way up attracted the girls' attention. "Hi, Lana, Chloe."

Big smiles grew on both their faces on seeing Whitney was finally awake.

"How are you feeling?" asked Lana with just a hint of concern in her voice.

"Great," began Whitney before her tone and the expressions on the girls' faces sank in. "Is there some reason I shouldn't?"

"Whitney, what's the last thing you remember?" asked Chloe.

It only took a moment and then Whitney's memories came flooding back and the words came out in a rush. "Lana, Marion Jones, and I were in the back of a van in Nazi Germany just outside of Berlin. The van had just stopped and we were ordered out. Then abruptly my memories just stop."

What was going on, wondered Whitney. It had been the middle of the night and now they were sitting outside in broad daylight. Finally becoming aware that there was a gap in his memory, he looked around with interest. Their blanket was spread out on a small hilly rise overlooking a wide, slow moving river with an inviting sandy beach near their present location. The far bank of the river looked to be almost half a mile away with a similar beach giving way to several miles of lush grassland before a range of green hills filled the horizon.

Glancing behind him to see what lay on this side of the river, Whitney got the shock of his life. They were sitting almost in the shadow of a giant stone sphinx. No, not a sphinx, but The Sphinx. But there was something subtly wrong. At first he thought it was the green grassland around the Sphinx rather than the barren desert he had always seen in photos, but then he realized it was the shape of the head of the Sphinx which was different. Instead of the badly worn Pharaoh's face with its surrounding Royal Egyptian head-dress, the Sphinx now possessed a pristine copy of Chloe's face surrounded by a lion's mane.

Looking back at the girls, Whitney asked. "Where are we? And Chloe, how did you get here? I thought you were back in Smallville, hurt and unconscious."

Chloe smiled. "Where we are is the easiest part." Gesturing to the expanse of water, she continued. "That's the Nile and this will one day be Egypt. At the moment this is a remote corner of the Empire of Lemuria."

"What do you mean one day? Have we traveled through time again?"

"No," said Chloe shaking her head. "This is all just a virtual recreation of what this spot looked like in the year 10256 B.C. While we were in Rome I promised Lana we would use the time machine to visit here someday. For the moment, this recreation is the best I can do."

Whitney didn't understand what Chloe was saying. He could feel the sun beating down on his body. He could feel the breeze rustling his hair. He could smell the nearby river.

Lana could see the perplexed expression on Whitney's face. "Whitney, remember when we saw 'The Matrix' two years ago?" He nodded. "Remember how the world Neo thought was real was just a giant, shared computer simulation and in reality Neo was a captive in that pod-thingy? Well, this is a more or less the same thing. Nanobots are located at every synapse in your brain. They can allow your natural electrical impulses to operate unhindered or they came block the signals and substitute their own. The 'bot network has sufficient processing power to fire your synapses in such a way as to make this virtual world seem perfectly real."

Whitney remembered the movie but had always assumed that if it was possible at all, it would take a massive computer which would fill buildings upon buildings. "You're saying the 'bots in our bodies can do all this?"

"Whitney, you have to understand the 'bots are down in the atomic range, size-wise. That means there are several quadrillion 'bots and therefore processor nodes in our bodies. Quadrillions of nodes arranged in a three dimensional array results in an almost unimaginably powerful computer system."

He slowly nodded. He didn't understand all the details, but it must be true because this place seemed just as real as anywhere they had been in Berlin or even anywhere back in Smallville.

"Okay, I guess I have no choice but to accept it. But you still haven't explained how you got here, Chloe."

"Hmm, that's going to take a little longer to explain. Would you like a ham sandwich and some lemonade while we talk?"

He nodded and then sat back to enjoy the food and the view while Laura explained who she was and how she came to be there.

----------

Whitney shuddered as though someone had walked on his grave. He never understood what the expression meant, but suddenly it felt like he did.

"Let me get this straight. It is really about ten minutes after the last thing I can remember and in that ten minutes some German Major . . ."

Lana interrupted with, "His name is Biberach. I thought you might want to know."

"Okay, this Major Biberach decides to empty his machine gun into my body. So I am currently lying on the floor in the ballroom dead."

"Hardly," grinned Laura. "Or we wouldn't be having this conversation. You were dead, but the nanobots have now finished repairing your body."

"So if I am recovered, why can't I remember anything after the van?"

"Because," began Lana before she hesitated unable to say the words.

"Because," completed Laura, "the last three rounds destroyed most of your brain. Too much was lost and the only option was to restore your memories from the backup copy in the 'bot network. Unfortunately, your 'bots were inert at the time you were shot and the last time they were active was when Lana was touching you in the van."

Even in this virtual simulation, Whitney seemed to turn a little pale. "If I hadn't already had the 'bots in my body from the tornado back in Smallville . . ."

"We could have restored your body, but most of your memories would have been gone forever," answered Laura.

That certainly explained the 'walking on his grave' feeling decided Whitney. He had been operating on borrowed time ever since his first death as a result of the tornado. Was he on double-secret borrowed time now?

"Is there some reason this Nazi shot me, or was it just for fun?"

"He had just got found out Clark was down in the dungeon rescuing Indy and in the process Clark had not only defeated two of these superstrong Germans, but also demonstrated he is invulnerable to machine gun bullets." answered Lana, finally able to talk again now that the conversation had gotten past how near they had been to losing Whitney. What if he didn't already have a set of 'bots? Indy and Marion didn't have 'bots, what if they met a similar fate to Whitney? Right then Lana decided she would introduce a set of 'bots into them at the earliest opportunity, just in case. They still needed Indy alive to receive the alien artifact at the opening ceremonies. And she had come to like Marion and would hate to see anything happen to her.

"What exactly does 'invulnerable to machine gun bullets' mean?" asked Whitney.

"The German Captain who witnessed it said the bullets just bounced off him," began Laura. "And Clark had told me the same thing back in Rome."

'Wow,' thought Whitney. 'It must be nice in a situation like this to be super-strong, super-fast, and impervious to bullets. I wonder why Clark allowed us to make him the scarecrow back at homecoming?'

"Anyway," said Lana. "Major Biberach decided to retreat before Clark came looking for us. Apparently, he still wants something from Indy and intends to hold onto Marion as a hostage. And I guess me, too. But you were expendable. Or maybe he was just checking to see if you were invulnerable like Clark."

"I wish," mumbled Whitney. Then speaking up, he continued. "So what's the plan?"

Lana took a deep breathe. "Well, since you are healed now and since Clark hasn't shown up yet; I'm afraid I am going to have to go with Marion and Germans to try and keep her safe."

"And what about me?" asked Whitney.

"The Germans think you are dead. I think you are going to have to play dead until they are gone. If you miraculously come back to life, who knows what they might do. And if they kill you again, we might not get lucky a second time in reviving you. Besides you need to let Clark and Indy know what happened to us and where they are taking us."

Whitney nodded; he had no desire to be killed twice within a five minute span. "Where are they taking you?"

Lana shook her head. "I don't know for certain. Biberach made a comment about taking us to Hitler, but I have no idea where he is at the moment. I would assume though that it is somewhere very secure."

Laura rose to her feet and unconsciously brushed off her skirt. "Well, I think that about covers it. Anyone else up for a swim? I promise this Nile is crocodile-free."

Whitney looked up at her. "I thought the Germans were about to drag you out of here."

Laura's face went blank for a moment as though her attention was focused elsewhere. Then she responded. "Time runs faster here than in the 'real' world. We have plenty of time for a relaxing, refreshing swim."

Whitney glanced down at his attire. "Ahh, I don't see any swimming suits."

For Lana this comment brought back memories of their first day back in ancient Rome, before they even understood they had been stranded there by a time machine, another afternoon where the lack of swimsuits had also been a topic for discussion. It was almost hard for her to believe that from her perspective those events had happened barely three weeks earlier. God, how her life had changed since then. Was she even the same girl who had so shyly gone into that pond wearing her bra and panties as a substitute for a swimsuit?

Laura grinned. "It's just us here, no one else to see if we go skinny-dipping. Or is the thought of seeing me naked that revolting?"

Whitney hadn't even been thinking about Laura, who looked exactly like Chloe. No, he had been thinking about Lana. She had made it clear since they had been back here in 1936 that her affections were all focused on Lex. How could he, just barely graduated from Smallville High, ever compete against one of the richest men in the world? Particularly knowing that when they got home he would have to leave immediately for the Marines? It would be at least six months before he could return to Smallville, how could he ever expect Lana to wait for him now, when she had already said she loved Lex?

Laura had expected some response, but saw the way Whitney was staring at Lana with a melancholy expression on his face. Lana had Lex. Chloe had Clark. But where did that leave her? Whitney was tall, handsome, and looking a little down. She didn't see why she couldn't have a little fun with Whitney while they were here.

"Hey!" exclaimed Laura while stamping her foot to get Whitney's attention. "So you prefer brunettes to blondes, do you?"

With Whitney's and Lana's attentions focused on her, she made a show of turning her back to them. Then she leaned forward from the waist and snapped her head forward out of sight. A split second later she flung her head back and now long brunette hair hung down to the middle of her back. Slowly she turned back around and the others discovered not only her hair had changed, but also her face and body. Suddenly, Laura and Lana were identical twins.

Laura moved over beside Lana and knelt back down. When she started speaking, her voice too was just like Lana's. "If you prefer this look, well that's okay with me. Or would you like something a little hotter?"

Laura turned to Lana, reached out her right hand, and used her index finger to slowly turn Lana's face towards her. Then she leaned over and gave Lana a short, soft kiss on the lips.

"Eww, Laura that was gross," said Lana a little more forcefully than she was actually feeling. "I thought those lesbian stories you told back in Rome were just some game you were playing for Lex and Clark."

Laura grinned at Lana, who suddenly felt almost like she was staring into a mirror. Very disconcerting.

"Seventeen thousand years is a long time. No matter how straight you think you are, eventually you will try everything. I mean I find maybe one in ten guys attractive, but only one in ten thousand girls. For most people, they will never meet that one in ten thousand at the right time and place. But if you live forever, eventually it will happen." Pausing, Laura leaned over to Lana's ear and whispered, "You are one in ten thousand, maybe even one in million." Laura took a moment to nibble on Lana's earlobe before whispering a final, "Soon."

Straightening up, Laura turned back towards Whitney. "I guess Lana isn't quite ready for the identical twin make-out fantasy. Too bad, I'm sure you would have enjoyed watching as much as I would have enjoyed participating. Oh well, I will just have to keep working on her."

Laura stood up and moved over next to Whitney. Sitting down, she made her voice very slow and breathy like when Lana had been under the influence of the Necrodemis plant. "Whitney, may I kiss you?" And then, not waiting for any response, Laura leaned in for a kiss.

Laura intended to keep the kiss light and short, but Whitney's response was stronger than she expected. In his head Whitney knew this was not Lana, but all the physical cues were there: Lana's fragrance, Lana's taste, even the way her hair floated over his face. Without thinking Whitney's body reacted as it always did when Lana kissed him. His right hand reached up and caressed the back of her neck for a few seconds before his fingers slid up into her hair and pulled her tight. His left hand reached around her back and then slowly slid down until it was cupping one cheek.

After a few seconds Whitney found he had gone without noticing from a sitting position to lying flat on his back with Laura sprawled half on top of him. And for the first time in days he found himself relaxed and almost happy. Four days earlier, he had been happy. He had finally graduated from high school and had his escape from Smallville, via the Marines, all worked out. In two years, when Lana would also graduate, he would be well established in his career and she could join him. Then his whole world had come crashing apart. The tornado where he should have died, but didn't. Finding out Lana was in love with Lex Luthor and suddenly she had all of these near superhuman abilities. Finding out Clark was an alien. Finding out Chloe was nearly 20,000 years old and had a time machine. Finding he was suddenly in Nazi Germany competing in the Olympics. And now, finding out he had just 'died' for the second time.

All in all, the last few days had been overwhelming. It wasn't an issue of Laura versus Lana so much as just a simple need for someone to put their arms around him and hold him for awhile.

Laura, too, was enjoying the physical contact as she pulled away from Whitney's mouth and made a small trail of wet kisses across his cheek, down one side of his throat, and then back up the other side until she returned to his lips. When she and Chloe had been one, she had finally been so happy connecting with Clark. Then to wake up in the arena and find herself trapped in Lana's body while the other 'real' Chloe was with Clark. Ultimately, she had sacrificed her existence in the real world to allow Lana to have her body back and ever since she had been stuck in this limbo existence. Oh, she could relive any experience from her long and varied life or spend her time creating and experiencing new virtual worlds, but it all came from her own mind and wasn't as satisfying as interacting with other people.

So in the end both Whitney and Laura needed the closeness they were sharing and it had very little to do with sex or teenage hormones, as it might appear to any outside observer. And in this case, Lana was the outside observer. She had only known Laura for a few short minutes and hadn't seen through Laura's thousand year thick protective shell to realize how lonely she really was. Nor had she realized how deeply her confession of her love for Lex had hurt Whitney.

No, all Lana saw was the man she had been with through most of her teenage years suddenly making out with her best girlfriend, who was herself masquerading as Lana.

Therefore suddenly a new female voice rang out, a voice immediately familiar to Whitney. "Whitney Fordman! What the hell do you think you are doing?"

Whitney's head jerked back from Laura's as though her lips had suddenly turned to liquid fire. When Laura tried to meet his gaze, she saw him staring past her shoulder in shock. Turning, Laura too looked back. She found herself staring at a woman she didn't recognize, an attractive blonde of about forty with a hint of fire in her eyes.

Finally, Whitney found his voice. "Low blow, Lana. Playing the 'Mom' card."

"Very impressive," said Laura. "Only a few minutes of experience and you have already mastered the ability to control your appearance here at will."

Then Laura slowly shook her head. "But I think you are overreacting. You have said you love Lex. If that's true, you need to let Whitney go. Clark is with the other Chloe. I have had to accept it and I didn't even fall out of love with him like you did with Whitney. You have no idea how badly I wanted to get back together with Clark back in Rome when I was in control of your body. It hurt and hurt and hurt, but I knew if I acted on my desires, it would probably destroy things between you and Lex in the long run. Now it is time for you to suck it up and make a decision. Is it going to be Lex or Whitney? If Lex, then don't stand in Whitney's way."

The blonde woman cast her eyes down to the ground and as Laura and Whitney watched, she appeared to shimmer for a second and then abruptly her appearance switched back to Lana.

When Lana raised her eyes, two long streams of tears were running down her face. As she took a small hesitant step forward, she mumbled, "I am so sorry."

Laura quickly stepped forward and pulled Lana into a hug. For several minutes the identical, raven haired girls stood there and slowly rocked.

Eventually the tears stopped and Lana pulled her head back a little so she could look into Laura's eyes. "I'm sorry. I did really overreact, but seeing you looking like me and you kissing Whitney, it just freaked me out."

Laura smiled. "It's okay. It has been tense few minutes. Hell, it has been a tense few days since the tornado, with Lex and Chloe hurt and all. Maybe what we need is something relaxing and distracting to keep our minds occupied for a few minutes. And I think I know just the thing. Can you Fox Trot?"

"Fox Trot?" repeated Lana not understanding what Laura was talking about.

"You know ballroom dancing. The Fox Trot."

Lana shook her head.

Laura released her hold on Lana, stepped back, and folded her arms in front of her. "That's okay, let Jeannie take care of everything."

Laura blurred for a second and then she took on the appearance of Barbara Eden from the 'I Dream of Jeannie' TV show, except her harem girl outfit was way racier than anything that could have been shown on network TV back in the 60's or even in the twenty first century for that matter.

Then in Jeannie's voice she said, "First we need some appropriate music." She did a slow blink of her eyes, which was even accompanied by the old, familiar sound effect, and instantly the entire plain on which they were standing was filled with an instrumental version of Frank Sinatra's 'Fly Me to the Moon'.

"And some appropriate clothes," she continued with another slow blink. Immediately, Whitney was clad in an elegant white shirt, white bowtie, and black tuxedo. Looking down, Lana found she was also formally attired in a floor-length, dark green strapless dress with a long slit up the right side almost to her hip to allow easy movement on the dance floor. The ensemble was completed by a diamond and emerald necklace and matching earrings, which in the 'real' world would have cost well into the millions.

Laura grinned for a moment at how beautiful Lana looked, before she got back into character. "And finally, a dance partner for Lana." After a third slow blink, Lex appeared two steps in front of Lana wearing a tux which matched Whitney's.

Lana looked at Lex almost in shock. She had missed him so much in the four days they had been parted. And he stood there in front of her looking so handsome, his auburn hair grown out a little longer than the buzz cut look she had last seen.

"Lex?"

But Lex didn't answer; instead it was Laura, now herself looking like Lana again and decked out in a complementary ruby red dress, who responded. "Sorry, I couldn't deliver the real thing, but I hope this dance partner will do."

Lex turned his right hand palm up at waist height, raised his left hand to shoulder height, and with a lift of his eyebrow invited Lana to dance.

Quickly Lana flowed into his arms, stepping a lot closer than was normal for the fox trot. It was obvious Laura wasn't allowing this simulation of Lex to speak to remind Lana he was only a simulation, but as Lana briefly rested the side of her face against his chest she realized Laura had gotten the rest of Lex's physical attributes just about perfect, particularly the combination of Lex's personal scent and the custom designed cologne he always wore. As Lex's body started to lead her perfectly through the dance steps, Lana felt happier and more at peace than at anytime since she had heard of Lex's scarily serious injury.

After watching Lex and Lana dance for a few seconds, Laura turned her attention to Whitney. Speaking in a formal tone, Laura asked, "I know it is forward of me, but may I have this dance?"

Whitney pulled his eyes away from where Lana and Lex were dancing in an impossibly complicated style like something from an old movie of the nineteen thirties or forties and turned his attention to the 'other' Lana standing in front of him. "Laura, I'm afraid I can't possibly dance like that," he answered with a shake of his head.

"Oh, I think you will be pleasantly surprised."

Whitney paused for a moment and then cautiously raised his hands to the position he had seen Lex use. Without hesitation, Laura step into his arms and almost without his volition his hands found the correct position and his body started to move with the music. Within seconds they were spinning and twirling and Whitney's body seemed to know just the right move when it was needed. The only other time his body felt so in tune with his surroundings was out on the football field when they implemented a well-rehearsed play.

The dancing went on for minutes and the music segued to a quick step version of Nat King Cole's 'Those Lazy Hazy Crazy Days of Summer'. When music turned to a ballad version of Doris Day's 'Every Body Loves a Lover', Whitney felt like he was dancing on a cloud like Fred Astaire or Gene Kelly. Glancing down, it seemed perfectly natural that he and Laura were really dancing on a cloud. Looking off into the distance, he could see the Sphinx crouched down, staring impassively into the distance, hundreds of feet below their current height. He knew he should be scared at this great height, but instead he felt unbelievably safe floating in Laura's arms.

As the third song came to an end, Whitney pulled Laura close, and carefully tilting her head back, drew her into a deep, impassioned kiss. When they finally broke apart, Whitney whispered, "I don't want this moment to ever end."

Laura returned his kiss for nearly a minute before answering. "Me either, but I am afraid it is going to have to end right now, as I am about to be dragged away by one of the Nazis. Remember to play dead until we are gone. I am so looking forward to continuing this when we are all reunited."

Then with one quick peck on the lips, Laura blurred and disappeared. At virtually the same instant, the clouds, the Nile, and the Sphinx also disappeared and Whitney found himself back in his own body. The abrupt transition almost made him gasp out loud before he remembered he had to play dead.

------------------------

Christoph Frenkel grabbed Lana's arm and pulled her unresisting body towards the door. For a moment, Laura, who was still in control of the body she shared with Lana, remained lost in the recently ended dance with Whitney. It was only after she was moving that the return to the 'real' world fully sank in.

Focusing, she realized Hein was back on his feet and making his way towards the door. He had one hand clasped tightly to his destroyed eye and his remaining eye was staring 'bloody murder' at her. He was definitely going to be a problem in the future, she knew.

Major Biberach was still holding his Luger to Marion's head, as though he still expected trouble. Carefully, he backed towards the door.

The three Nazis and their two female hostages all met up at the door leading from the ballroom into the grand entrance hall. As they passed through the doorway, Laura turned for one last look at Whitney. He was still lying in the same position as before, but, she noticed, he wasn't quite able to stop a small smile from gracing his lips.

End of Chapter Nine

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Author's Notes

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It seemed like the past few chapters have been nonstop action and violence, so I thought the little 'virtual reality' interlude made a nice change and allowed for a little more character development before we get back to the action with Clark and Indy. Plus it was a good spot to set the groundwork for some things to come.

Deanna – I am afraid Chloe is going to be out of the story for awhile. Was the return of Laura close enough? Since the TV show has given Lana the as yet unexplained tattoo, I thought the return of Laura would be fun. Two minds in one body seems to present some interesting possibilities.

Hemish – I hope the length of this chapter was more to your liking!

Shall-iin – You need to have faith and a little (well, maybe a lot) of patience. Clark is only 16 in this story, so it is at least 7-8 years until he meets the 'canon' Lois (I really enjoy the new Lois in the TV show, but they are hardly sticking to 'canon' either.) I have some thoughts how this story, maybe a couple hundred thousand words in the future, will evolve into a story with a 'canon' Lois. Sometimes I like to write myself into a corner for the challenge of coming up with an internally consistent solution.

Rebel Goddess and Angel of Imladris– The 'real' Henry Jones does look a lot like Tom Selleck. George Lucas even tried to get Tom to play Indy, but he was under contract to do Magnum at the time. I have seen a version of the Raiders of the Lost Ark Poster with Tom in place of Harrison floating around the internet. I do agree that for the movies, Harrison works better. I think it comes down to his size. At 5'10" he looked like such the underdog particularly during the fight with the bald guy under the flying wing airplane. The fight wouldn't have worked nearly as well with 6'4" Selleck towering over his opponent.

Next up – Clark and Indy in action together. I have something very spectacular in mind. Unless of course, as usual I ramble on too long and it takes me a couple of chapters to get there!

Until next time,

Duane


	10. Biological Families Chapter 10

Biological Families

Author: duane at duaneaakre dot com

Disclaimer: As always I own nothing. Well I own a house, two cars, a pair of jetskis, and a lot of other junk, but none of these characters.

Story Rating: R The story may drift into the HBO range rather than stay in the WB range, so to be on the safe side, I am rating this R.

Chapter 10

After the image on his phone faded out, Clark pressed the recessed button on the side of the silver cylinder which retracted the screen. Even before it was fully stowed his eyes were restlessly scanning the area; talking to Lana had driven home how long he had already lingered down here. What if something bad happened to Lana or Whitney before he was able intervene? Until they had reached the chateau he had kept most of his attention focused on them and could have reached them in a fraction of a second, if the need had arisen. But for the past few minutes all of his attention had been on events down here in the dungeon.

Perhaps more brusquely than he had intended, Clark grabbed Indy's arm and hoisted him to his feet.

"Can you walk? We need to get out of here now before more guards show up."

Indy nodded, but his legs were spasming and his knees looked about ready to buckle. Quickly Clark threw Indy's right arm across his own shoulders and then reached around Indy's back with his left hand and grabbed a solid handful of the waistband of Indy's pants. Straightening slightly, Clark nearly hoisted the other big man's body completely free from the floor. As soon as he had Indy settled in his grip, Clark started off at a slow steady pace across the floor of the black cathedral towards the solitary exit. He could have just picked Indy up and carried him, but Clark was hoping movement would help get Indy's mind and body working a little faster. Indy had a lot more experience dealing with Nazis and Clark might need his help before this night was over. Besides, he wasn't certain he wanted to reveal any more of his abilities to Indy than was absolutely necessary. After all, they were only a little over sixty years in the past; it was remotely possible they could meet up again in the future.

"Ah, kid," began Indy. "What did you say your name was again?"

"Clark Kent, Doctor Jones. And the girl on the phone was a friend of mine, Lana Lang. Another friend, Whitney Fordman is with Lana and your wife."

"Okay, Clark, but seeing as how you are rescuing me and all, just call me, Hank."

Well, thought Clark as he nodded, at least having him say it is a rescue is a step forward. "Hank it is."

Clark wondered about the Indy nickname. Back at the hotel Marion had only referred to him as Hank and then again on the phone. Was the name Indy just some invention by George Lucas to make Jones seem more dashing? Time enough to worry about that later thought Clark. He just hoped he didn't accidentally call him Indy. At least Hank didn't look at all like Harrison Ford; hopefully he would be able to remember to call him Hank and refer to the Harrison Ford 'Jones' as Indy.

"So, Clark, what was that device? I have never seen, hell, even heard of anything like it. I may just be an old archeology professor, but I do play poker occasionally with the physics department staff when I need to pickup some extra cash and something like that would have them all talking. For months they seemed to talk about nothing but the new cathode ray tube televiewing machine they were putting together. Finally, one night when the game was breaking up we all hiked back down to their lab. They had a cabinet about the size of an icebox with a little tiny display, which was smaller than the screen in your device. A huge mass of cables and wiring connected it to the camera which was also almost as big as another icebox. And the picture, well, it was all in shades of gray and you could just barely recognize a person's face. But your device, wow, it was like the women were in the room with us, the picture was so clear. And the screen is as thin as a sheet of paper. How is it possible?"

Clark almost cranked his brain up into 'super-speed' trying to come up with an appropriate response. He had known from the moment he pulled the video screen from the cell this question was coming. What answer would best head things in the direction of their ultimate objective? Not the rescue of Indy and Marion, but the retrieval of the device at the opening ceremony?

"What I am about to tell you is classified by the United States government as top secret. It is important you understand what is going on as we need your help, but you are going to have to sign the necessary confidentiality papers when you get back stateside. Agreed?"

Indy took a moment to ponder his decision. He was as American as the next guy, but the resolution of the 'Ark' situation had left a bad taste in his mouth. He had risked life and limb keeping it out of the Nazis' hands and then the government simply took it away claiming they had 'experts' working on it. What experts? He knew all of the experts and if any of them were working on it, or were even aware of its existence, he would have heard about it. No, the 'Ark' had disappeared as effectively as when the sandstorm had buried the ancient city of Tanis all of those centuries ago.

They were just reaching the exit from the black cathedral as Indy turned to look Clark in the eye to try and read the situation in his face, perhaps if they really did need his help they would a little more forthcoming with the truth. The electric lights from the corridor gave him his first opportunity for a good look at the kid. And a kid he definitely was, no more than sixteen tops, maybe even fifteen.

"Aren't you awfully young to be working for the government?"

As they stepped into the corridor, Clark could hear the pounding reverberating in the corridor, which previously he could only feel as vibrations through the soles of his feet. Turning his x-ray vision towards the far end where he had entombed the two guards, he could see a pattern of large cracks spreading from their location even as he watched. So far the repeated pounding they were doing against the walls of their chamber had only spread the cracks eight or so feet, but at the rate of their growth, the men would probably be free in no more than thirty minutes. What were these guys?

"Time was short when the need for a team in Berlin became apparent. The only immediate cover story we could come up with which would give us freedom of movement around Berlin and not instantly label us as spies was to infiltrate the U.S. Olympic Team. So they picked out the youngest looking members of our organization. Now, will you agree to the confidentiality agreement?"

Indy was really curious to find out what was going on; what was so urgent the U.S. government was willing to break him out of Nazi custody? And not from some backwater neutral country, but the heart of Nazi Germany.

"Okay, I agree to the confidentiality requirement. Now what is going on? And what is that pounding?"

By now they were part way down the corridor and dust was being shaken loose from the ceiling by each mighty blow the guards were delivering to the wall of their temporary prison.

"Ahh, there is a vault down beyond the end of this passage and I managed to lock the guards in there."

"A couple of guys dressed in black? Very strong guys?" asked Indy.

Clark realized Indy must know about the guard's special gift, probably that was part of the reason he had been grabbed in the first place. "They did seem inhumanly strong, but I got lucky and managed to trick them into the vault."

Indy took in the gaping holes in the walls and the piles of debris all along the corridor. None of this damage had been here when he had been brought in a few hours earlier. It looked like a terrific battle had taken place before Clark had 'tricked' them into the vault. If so, how had Clark held his own against these men for the length of time required to accumulate all of this damage? No, that question could wait for the moment; he was still more interested in Clark's story.

"Anyway Clark about the device?" asked Indy.

"I am sure from your own experiences you are aware the Nazis are searching the globe looking for mystical, occult relics to use in the upcoming war."

Indy actually paused in their trek to the stairway at Clark's calm, assured usage of the word 'war'. The only person talking about an upcoming war in a voice louder than a whisper was the British politician, Churchill. Everyone else avoided speaking about it as though they were ostriches and by sticking their heads in the sand they would make it go away. But Clark's tone made it seem like a war was a foregone conclusion.

"I know about the relic hunts," interjected Indy. "But is a war actually inevitable?"

Clark shrugged. "Our computers project a ninety-five percent probability that Germany will, within the next four years, instigate a war which ultimately engulfs all of Europe. The odds are sixty-three percent America will also be drawn into the conflict; however there is a pretty wide standard deviation on that final estimate with the time it takes Germany to beat France a major factor."

"Com . . . Computers? You mean those big calculating machines?"

"More or less. I guess this brings up the basic philosophical difference between us and the Nazis. They like the 'all or nothing', 'go for broke' solution to reaching their goals. That's why they find the 'Ark', the 'Grail Cup', and all of the biblical stuff so intriguing."

Indy almost nodded; whatever branch of the government Clark worked for, they definitely had a complete dossier on him. Of course, if they didn't, then they wouldn't be here looking to get his help.

"So, you are not here about some biblical relics?"

Clark shook his head. "No. We are looking for more scientific-type solutions for besting the Nazis in any future war. We want to develop things that can be mass produced and put into the field in large quantities, things like that communication device you saw."

Clark paused to look Indy directly in the eyes. "This next bit is the top secret part. We might have followed the same path as the Nazis except for one thing. Five years ago, a spaceship crash landed near Roswell, New Mexico."

"Space. . . spaceship?" stuttered Indy as this turn took him completely by surprise. "You mean spaceship as in 'little green men' spaceship?"

"Well, the survivors of the crash aren't little. And they aren't green; well okay they do have green blood. Our scientists say their hemoglobin is based on copper rather than iron which accounts for the coloration. So, I guess if you really want to stretch the point you could say they are green. However, if you ever meet T'Pol, you won't call her a man."

"You mean the creatures from the spaceship are alive?" asked Indy as he tried to get a grip on the situation.

Clark nodded. "There were two survivors, a male, Spock, and a female, T'Pol. But don't call them creatures, except for pointed ears and a slightly different shape to the eyebrow, they look perfectly human. Well, Spock looks perfectly normal; T'Pol looks more like a famous movie star." Clark paused for a moment trying to remember the names of some movie stars from the nineteen thirties. Picking someone from a later period wouldn't mean anything to Indy and would ruin the believability factor of the story. "Umm, sort of like Garbo or Dietrich. Except I have never seen T'Pol crack a smile. Spock has tried to explain the calm, tranquil image they always project to me several times; it has something to do with their religion. Anyway, they seem almost human, particularly after you have talked to them for more than a few minutes."

"They speak English?"

"Yeah, they speak several Earth languages. Their civilization has been monitoring Earth's technological progress for a long time, but started active surveillance thirty years ago when the Wright brother's successful first flight was announced. Apparently, with all other young civilizations they have encountered, the first heavier-than-air flight indicates a number of key scientific and engineering fields have reached a critical juncture and rapid progress to space flight capability usually follows. They like to keep a close eye on things so they can reveal their presence at the proper time."

"Other civilizations? How many are there?" asked Indy.

"I don't know exactly. Spock and T'Pol are from a planet called Vulcan. Each planet is relatively independent, but they have an organization called the United Federation of Planets which is similar to the League of Nations and is used to settle disputes and organize a coordinated defense against the more belligerent worlds. I get the impression there are at least fifteen or twenty different races in the Federation."

This ongoing discussion of the highlights from 'Star Trek' had kept them occupied as they walked down the corridor to the stairway exit. Now, Clark paused at the two slumped bodies of the men who had originally attacked him with the machine guns. Carefully, Clark leaned Indy back against a nearby wall before grabbing the nearest unconscious man and hoisting him aloft with one hand. The man, barely five-eight, dangled with his feet just touching the ground.

"Well," began Clark as he lowered the man back to the floor. "For a master race, these Nazis sure are a scrawny bunch."

"Clark, I learned long ago, beggars can't be choosers. Even if their jackets aren't going to fit, it will give us a couple of extra seconds when we first run into opposition."

Clark nodded as he bent to strip the uniform jackets off the two soldiers. He handed the first one to Indy and then slipped on the second. Even sucking in his stomach, the gap in the front of the jacket stubbornly remained at least four inches, so he was forced to leave it hanging open. Even with the jacket undone, there was still something creepy about finding himself at least partially dressed in a real Nazi uniform.

Indy's jacket wasn't doing any better at covering him as he pressed himself away from the wall. But the few minutes of movement since Clark had released him from the chair had returned his circulation and the spasms from the electric shock torture had finally died away. Now he took the first step towards the daunting flight of stairs.

"So, Clark," continued Indy to distract himself from the effort of the climb; although he did drop his voice to near a whisper to keep it from carrying up the stairs ahead of them. "These . . . ah . . . aliens gave you the communication devices?"

"Not the devices themselves, but the technology necessary to produce them. And give is probably not quite the right term. I think it was more in the form of a trade, some of their technology in return for our help in building them a transmitter to send a signal requesting a rescue by their people. Although based on a lot of conversations I have had with Spock and T'Pol, I think they are nervous about the possibilities of the Nazis coming to dominate human civilization and they are trying, in a small way, to tip things in favor of the United States. They have told me a lot of stories about numerous warrior races in this region of the galaxy like the Klingons, the Romulans, and the Andorians. I think they want us to be an ally of Vulcan when earth becomes a space-faring civilization and if the Nazis are in charge when that day comes, that's not likely."

While Indy had thought of the Nazis as an inconvenient annoyance during many of his recent adventures, he had never seriously considered them a major threat to human civilization. But if what Clark was saying and implying was true, something needed to be done.

"Clark, exactly what kind of help do you need from me that was worth the risk of breaking me out of this dungeon?"

"Spock told us your help was needed. It is not completely clear to me whether the Vulcans have true psychic abilities or if they have equipment they haven't yet revealed to us which allows them to get glimpses into the future. After dealing with them for awhile, it has become a common saying around Area 51, the facility were the Vulcans are kept, that 'Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic' because they have so many devices which sure seem like magic at first glance. Anyway Spock has on several previous occasions provided us with information which he couldn't possibly have known without some way of seeing into the future. So when he makes a suggestion, we have learned to listen."

Wow, thought Clark, Star Trek, Area 51, and a quote from Arthur C. Clarke, I hope I am not laying it on too thick. This is getting a lot more convoluted than the Lord of the Rings story I spun to entertain Emperor Caligula back in Rome. I sure hope aliens are a more believable story than the truth that we are time-travelers from the future. Should I have gone for a variation of the H.G. Wells Time Machine story instead? Oh well, too late now, I guess Star Trek it is. Hmm, was that Arthur C. Clarke quote from before or after 1936?

"Spock didn't provide us with much information; just that a German Luftwaffe Major would be passing you a very important alien artifact during the opening ceremonies at the Olympic Stadium. It took us a couple of days once we arrived in Berlin to locate your hotel without being too obvious. Then when we reached the hotel, we found out from Marion you had disappeared. I'm afraid we had to allow the Nazis to grab your wife so they would lead us here, but don't worry, my friends are very capable. We do have a few tricks, like the communicators, up our sleeves."

Indy nodded his head as he continued to climb the stairs and listen to Clark. So that was the reason Horst had called him in Paris and insisted he come to Berlin. His old friend Major Horst Eckmann, although it had been Lieutenant Eckmann when they had first met in a small tavern at the airfield in La Paz, Bolivia way back in 1925. Indy had been on his way to Lake Titicaca on the border of Bolivia and Peru to lead his first dig since becoming a full professor and achieving tenure at the University. He had long held a personal belief that a previously unknown offshoot of the Olmec civilization had existed along the shores of Titicaca. He had been at the airport hoping to find a float-plane and pilot to investigate possible dig sites before the remainder of his team arrived in La Paz two weeks later by train from Buenos Aires.

When Indy first met him, Lieutenant Eckmann had been on indefinite leave from the German Luftwaffe as a direct result of the Versailles Treaty which had ended the Great War in Europe. While the treaty had required major reductions in the size of the German Army, it had been the German Navy and Air Force which had been truly devastated. At the end of the war, the Germany Navy had had fifty-four battleships and battle cruisers. By 1925 only four remained in service, all of the rest had been confiscated, scuttled, or broken up for scrap. Equally hard hit had been the German Air Force; under terms of the treaty they were not allowed any fighter or bomber aircraft, only a modest number of transports and trainers. In an attempt to maintain a core of trained officers until the term of the treaty ran out, the Luftwaffe had place pilots with German sympathetic militaries throughout the world, but particularly in South America.

So on the hot, muggy day when Indy had walked into the bar looking for a pilot, he had found Acting-Captain Horst Eckmann of the Bolivian Air Force in residence. Horst was the commanding officer of the 42nd Bolivian fighter squadron, which sounded more impressive than it really was as the Bolivians actually only had three active fighter squadrons - the 28th, the 37th, and the 42nd. And even these three meager squadrons were largely financed by the German military and only included a couple of token Bolivian pilots.

Even though Horst was on active duty with the Bolivian Air Force, things were a lot more flexible than back in Germany. After striking up a conversation with Indy and learning that he was an archaeologist, Horst had quickly agreed to locate an appropriate aircraft and act as Indy's guide for the next two weeks. It had been only two and a half years since Howard Carter had uncovered King Tutankhamen's Tomb in the Valley of the Kings over in Egypt and the world-wide enthusiasm for archeology and hidden treasures had not yet abated. And Indy remembered Horst had been no exception. His stipend from the Germany Air Force provided him with a comfortable living, certainly a better living then he would have had back home where rampant inflation was requiring wheelbarrows full of money to buy a loaf of bread. But a comfortable lifestyle in La Paz hadn't prevented visions of rooms filled with gold from dancing through his head, as Indy saw the 'gold fever' in Horst's eyes like he had seen in so many others before.

They hadn't found any rooms full of gold during that first summer in Bolivia, but Horst had become a friend and developed a bit of an archeology bug. Every couple of years since then, Indy would hear from Horst about some new item he had acquired in his travels and that he would happily pass on to Indy for a modest commission. Several of the artifacts had been of real value, so when Horst contacted Indy in Paris, he had been happy to make the small side trip to Berlin. He and Marion had planned to be in Europe for another month anyway before they needed to return to the States for the start of the fall semester. Indy had actually been on his way to meet Horst when the Nazis had kidnapped him as he left his hotel.

"Clark, I think I know who you are talking about. Marion and I came to Berlin at the invitation of an old friend, Major Horst Eckmann. He called me in Paris and was all excited about a new and in his words 'most unique' artifact he had recently acquired. I was on my way to meet him this morning when I was grabbed."

"A friend?" asked Clark.

Understanding the unasked part of the question, Indy explained. "Not everyone in the German military is a Nazi. I have known Horst for over ten years, long before anyone heard of Nazis. We met in South America and he helped out on a couple of my early digs. He occasionally contacts me about artifacts he has acquired. But politics and even archeology are of little importance to him; his one true passion is flying."

Clark and Indy reached the last sub-basement level on their climb from the dungeon level. Like at the other levels they had passed, they paused for a minute to listen for any occupants. Clark discreetly used his x-ray vision and found the level was used for storage, but was currently unoccupied. As he motioned Indy forward towards the continuation of the stairs, he continued in a hushed tone.

"It's good to know Spock was right about you and this Major Eckmann. But Hank, why are you here? What information are these Nazis trying to get from you?"

For a second, Indy's mind flashed back to his initial thought upon awakening down in the dungeon: was Clark part of some scheme by the Nazis to trick him? But as quickly as the thought occurred, Indy realized how ridiculous it was. No way would the Nazis have ever come up with the insane story Clark had been telling. Alien spaceships. Galaxy-spanning civilizations. Machines that could see into the future. It was one of those times where the story was so crazy, it had to be true. And Clark did have that almost magical communication device as proof of his story. It looked like Marion's and perhaps his own safety were in the hands of these kids; maybe it was time for a little trust on his part.

Indy took a deep breath. "Clark, have you heard of 'The Machlaphah of Samson'?"

For a second as Indy said the words, Clark thought he heard the same eerie music which played whenever the Ark was on screen during 'Raiders of the Lost Ark'. Then he realized it was the creaking sound of a door being opened, the door to the main level of the chateau at the top of the stairs. There was still one bend in the stairs between them and the squad of soldiers Clark could see with his x-ray vision, but the soldiers would be on them in less than a minute.

Clark knew he could take the whole squad, but either he would have to move so fast he would give away his secrets to Indy or if he moved slower there was always a chance one of them would get off a shot and alert everyone they were coming. They had passed the locked door to the highest basement level two turns back. If they hurried, he and Indy could get back there and hide until these men passed.

Quickly, Clark grabbed Indy's arm and then put his index finger to his lips. After pointing up the stairs and silently mouthing the word 'company', Clark turned and led the way back down at almost a run.

By the time they reached the landing, Indy could hear the approaching footsteps too. When Clark paused at the door, Indy motioned for him to continue down the stairs knowing breaking through the locked door would create too much noise. But Clark shook his head 'no' as he pulled the communication device back out of his pocket. As Indy watched, Clark pointed one end of the device towards the lock in the door. Almost instantly the lock began to glow red and then quickly climbed to white-hot. Indy could feel the heat radiating from the lock as the metal softened and began to flow. Carefully, Clark pressed against the door and it swung open. Seeing the expression on Indy's face, Clark quirked an eyebrow and then flashed a boyish grin while he pocketed the device. Once again it was driven home to Indy how young Clark was. From his whole attitude it was like penetrating to the center of a highly secure Nazi facility was nothing more than a juvenile prank.

The soldiers were almost at the last turn before reaching the landing when Clark motioned Indy through the now wide-open door. Indy only got a brief glimpse of the room they were entering before Clark closed the door plunging the room into darkness. That glimpse had been enough to show this level was used as storage for the kitchen above, and immediately his stomach began to grumble. How long had it been since his last meal? Eight hours? Twelve?

Clark's eyes shifted into x-ray vision mode as he guided Indy away from the door and back into the stack of crates. But most of his attention was focused on the intriguing words Indy had spoken – The Machlaphah of Samson. He had no idea what the first word was, but he suspected Chloe would, or now maybe even Lana. Regardless of that, who wouldn't recognize the name, Samson, as in 'Samson and Delilah'? The legendary strongman who killed a lion with his bare hands, destroyed temples, and killed thousands of men. A true biblical version of Hercules. For a moment Clark had a flashback to a conversation he had had back in Rome when he had been pretending to be the god Aries and sometimes friend of Hercules. And then it hit him. Strongman? Were the incredibly strong men he had been fighting somehow connected to the legendary Samson?

As they headed back into the stacks, they passed an open crate of oranges. Clark snagged a couple as he spotted the perfect hiding spot. After they reached it, he guided Indy to a seat on a crate facing away from the door and took a seat himself where he was facing both Indy and the door hidden beyond two rows of intervening crates. Even though it was almost six months since he had first developed his x-ray vision, he still found it a little disconcerting to be sitting here in the dark looking straight through Indy's body at the skeletal outlines of the soldiers in the corridor beyond.

Pushing one of the oranges into Indy's hands, Clark started to peel his own before continuing in hushed tones. "The Machlaphah of Samson? Of course I have heard of Samson, but that first word doesn't ring any bells."

Indy finished peeling his own orange and stuck the first slice in his mouth before responding. He discovered his body was craving the liquid in the fruit as much as the sugar. And the slight acidic taste was helping to further clear his head.

"Machlaphah is an ancient Hebrew term generally translated as 'lock of hair'. However in this instance, I believe 'braid of hair' would be more accurate. I am sure you know the basic story of Samson. How he was given this great gift from God of superhuman strength as long as he never cut his hair. However there are additional details to the story that usually only scholars bother to know. Samson was part of the Nazarite branch of the Jewish religion. Like most of the other Jewish sects of the time, they felt it was a blasphemy against God to trim any of a man's body hair. But each of the sects had their own traditions on how a man's hair should be worn, even if they all agreed it mustn't be cut. Now it was Nazarite tradition that a godly man wore his hair in seven braids or machlaphah to honor the seven days of creation."

Immediately at least part of the situation jumped into focus in Clark's head almost like the proverbial light bulb going on. "So unlike in the movies," and for a moment Clark almost froze. Surely there had been at least one movie about Samson by 1936? "Samson's hair would have been hanging in seven long braids rather than loose? And Delilah would have simply snipped off the braids?"

"Yes."

Before Indy had a chance to continue, Clark quickly completed his thought. "And somehow, whoever possesses the braids gains some of Samson's legendary strength?"

For a moment Indy felt a twinge of disappointment, it was always fun, though the opportunities were rare, to get to tell this kind of story to someone for the first time just to see the look in their eyes. But this time they were sitting in total darkness and Clark had guessed the situation with only the smallest hint.

"Yeah, Clark. Although from the nature of some of the questions the Nazis were asking me, I think you have to be in direct physical contact to experience the effect."

"Hank, if simple possession of Samson's hair bestows this incredible gift, why haven't I ever heard about it before?"

Indy shrugged and then realized Clark couldn't see him or read his body language in the pitch dark. "Probably because 'The Machlaphah' seemed to disappear from the pages of the Bible and history immediately after it was cut off. And it has come to light very few times down through the millennia to foster any legends. The only story I have heard were it seems likely Samson's hair was involved occurred in Palestine during the later stages of the Crusades. In the late twelfth century a new military leader rose to power within the Moslem forces. His name was Saladin and he was credited with having nearly super-human strength. It is recorded in numerous historical records from both sides that on several occasions he single-handedly broke up massed charges by Christian knights. The strange part of the story is how the gift seemed to be passed on after his death in 1193 to his mortal enemy, Richard the Lionheart. Richard had already left Palestine several years earlier to return to England, but it wasn't until about a year after Saladin's death that Richard also started to exhibit impossible strength and physical abilities during tournaments and battles. It is known Saladin and Richard met on several occasions outside the battlefield, so I guess for some unknown reason Saladin bequeathed 'The Machlaphah' to Richard."

"What happened to the hair next?"

"It disappears from history once more. There were the faintest hints it was given to the Knights Templar for safekeeping, but truthfully, no one knows."

Clark chewed another slice of his orange. No one had entered this storage level, but men continued to move passed the door on their way to the lower levels.

"So how did the Nazis end up with it and why did they grab you?"

"I don't know where they discovered it, but from their line of questioning it seems like they have been in possession of it for at least a couple of years. Or at least some of it. I think they possess at least two of the braids, but I don't know if they have all seven."

Clark knew they had at least four; two with the men back at the hotel and two more with the men trapped down in the dungeon level. No way could the four of them have been just sharing two of the braids, the timing didn't work.

"Is having all seven of the braids together important?"

"I have no idea, Clark. The Nazis seem to think there is some way to make the holder of the braids impervious to weapons fire in addition to very strong. They have been looking for a solution for a long time now without any success. They have some stupid idea I am an expert and that's the information they were trying to get from me."

"Aren't you the expert, Hank? I have seen the files on your involvement with the Grail Cup and the Ark of the Covenant."

"I am hardly an expert. The Grail Cup was always my father's obsession, not mine. I just got pulled in while trying to locate my Dad. And it was the government's search for Marion's father that dragged me into the whole 'Ark' situation. No, I have only the same general knowledge of biblical relics any other archeology professor would have. My personal interest has always been the ancient Olmec civilization of South America."

Clark thought back to Marion's ring and the conversation they had shared back at the Jones' hotel suite. "Hank, once we catch up with the others, you will have to find time to chat with my friend, Lana. She, too, has an interest in ancient South American civilizations. Although if I remember it right, she was most interest in some obscure civilization centered on the shores of some lake. Maybe Lake . . . Titicaca?"

Indy found himself staring in the direction of Clark's voice. Even after the couple of papers he had published and the relics, like Marion's ring, he had recovered, very few people in academia believed his theory. Now someone he had barely met starts talking about his favorite topic.

"Your friend has heard of the civilization by Lake Titicaca?"

Clark had a hard time keeping his grin from creeping into his voice. "Oh, more than heard of it. Back at the hotel she didn't seem to have any trouble reading the inscription on Marion's ring."

"What?" exclaimed Indy in a voice significantly louder than the whisper they had been using.

"Sorry," he continued with his voice once more reduced. "She can actually read the inscription? I have been working on it for almost ten years with only limited success. If she really can, why haven't I ever heard of her before?"

"Hmmm," responded Clark. "I think you better ask her that. And speaking of Marion and Lana, I think it is time we check the door. I don't want to linger here any longer than necessary."

Standing, Clark reached down and pulled Indy to his feet. Clark led the way back to the door while scanning the stairs for activity. At the moment no one was on the stairs between them and the main level of chateau, but Clark had no idea how long that would last. As he reached the door, he flipped the switch which turned on the lights in the storeroom. Quickly he started scanning the labels on the nearby crates before realizing they were all in German, which he couldn't read.

"Hank, can you read German? What is written on the crates?"

It was taking a minute for Indy's eyes to adjust to the suddenly bright light. Plus his thoughts were still focus on what Clark had said about his friend Lana's ability to read the inscription on Mar's ring. From the image on Clark's communication device, she looked just as young as he did. How did she know a language which had been lost for several thousand years? A language which pre-dated the Mayans, Incans, and Aztecs by centuries?

"Sorry, Clark. What?"

"The crates. What do they say?"

Indy forced his attention back on their current situation. "Ahh . . . Potatoes, salted pork, Brazilian nuts, salt, coffee. It's all just supplies for the kitchen."

"Well, pick us out a couple of crates each. It will help camouflage our appearance if we run into anyone on our way up."

Indy looked at Clark and grinned. "I like the way you think, kid. I suddenly have the feeling this isn't the first time you have done something like this."

Clark nodded. He had a lot of experience at hiding things in plain sight. It was very tempting to forego all of this sneaking around and just reveal his secrets. He could just wade straight through whatever the Nazi threw up against them until they had rejoined the others. But the last time he had tried that approach, back in ancient Rome, the end result had been Lana and Chloe executed in the arena. No, for now, maintaining a low profile seemed like the best approach.

After Clark pulled the door open, Indy handed him a couple of crates and then picked up a couple himself. The crates covered them from mid-thigh to almost their chins. The fact their jackets didn't fit was conveniently concealed.

"Hank, why don't you lead the way? I bet your German is a lot better than mine, which is effectively zilch."

"Zilch?" asked Indy as they stepped out into the corridor and turned to the ascending flight of stairs.

Damn, thought Clark. Wasn't that piece of slang around back in the thirties? What other words don't exist back here?

"Sorry, zilch is the Vulcan word for zero. I guess I have been spending too much time with Spock. He has been trying to teach me a little of his language."

With that comment the conversation died out. Indy was straining to hear anyone coming down the stairs from above. Clark's attention was also on the stairs ahead. Fortunately, the stairs remained clear all the way to the top.

The stairs let out into a side passage off the main central corridor near the kitchen in the back. The door to the main hallway was standing open and a steady stream of people were passing by. Many of the people were in uniform, but some were in civilian attire and some were obviously members of the chateau's domestic staff.

"Showtime," said Indy. "The main entrance is down the hallway to the left. I seem to remember passing the ballroom down there near the front entrance when I was first brought in."

Clark nodded and then gestured with his head for Indy to lead the way. Hopefully, Indy was right. When he had first entered the chateau, Clark had reached these stairs from the opposite direction and hadn't passed near anything which resembled a ballroom.

Compared to the back areas Clark had explored when he first arrived, this area of the chateau was bustling with activity. Although whether this area was always this busy at this time in the evening or if events down in the dungeon had precipitated things, Clark wasn't sure.

Clark followed single-file behind Indy as they hugged the right side of the grand hallway to stay out of the way of others and hopefully not draw too much attention. But Clark couldn't help but let his eyes wander over their surroundings. Unlike the dark and foreboding dungeon level, this area was very bright and almost gaudy with gilt-edged mirrors and electric candelabra lining the walls, which were covered with deep burgundy-colored silk tapestries. The two story tall hallway had numerous doorways and passages on the side to their left, but the right side only had a few widely spaced double doors.

At the third set of closed doors on their right, Indy paused and tried the handle being careful not to let his crates slip or his unbuttoned jacket to be revealed. The doors on this side had all been open when he had first been brought into the chateau and if he remembered correctly, this was the first of two doors leading into the ballroom. He was surprised when the handle turned freely and he was able to push the door open with the side of his foot. Was this the wrong door? If Mar and the others were being held in here, either the door should be locked or there should be guards.

As the door swung slowly open, Indy could see this was the ballroom, but he couldn't immediately see any occupants. Quickly he stepped inside and made room for Clark to enter before turning to set his decoy crates down. Once he was free of the crates, which had greatly hindered his view, Indy swung back to give the room a more thorough inspection. At first glance the room seemed unoccupied. Then he spotted the large pool of drying blood not more than ten feet away. A large cold spike of fear hit him in the guts and it hurt as bad as a real blow by someone wearing brass-knuckles. What had happened here? Where were Marion and the others? Were they dead?

Clark had followed Indy into the room and had then swung the door closed behind them. Before he even set his own crates down, he was already scanning the area with his x-ray vision. Only one person was in the room and he was hidden behind the heavy drapes covering the windows overlooking the exterior balcony beyond. Clark couldn't immediately tell who it was other than the figure was way too large to be Lana or Marion. Before he even noticed the pool of blood on the floor, Clark ran over to the drapery and pulled it aside.

Ever since Lana and Marion had been taken away, Whitney had been waiting for Clark from this position behind the drapes. Lying on the floor had felt way too exposed and he didn't know if someone else would enter the room before Clark and Indy would arrive. He sure didn't want someone to decide to carry his body away and then discover he was still alive.

So Whitney felt a great wave of relief when it was Clark who jerked the drapes open.

"Thank god you are finally here, Clark. The Nazis took Lana and Marion away. We have to go find them."

Clark stared at Whitney and almost didn't recognize him until he started speaking. Whitney's face was coated with drying blood. His blond hair was matted down and sticking out to one side with more blood. The whole front of his white shirt and gray suit coat were soaked with even more blood. It was like something from those post-game celebratory scenes where the large container of Gatorade is dumped over the coach's head except with Whitney they had used a giant container of blood.

"Fuck, Whitney. What happened to you?" exclaimed Clark once he found his voice again.

Whitney looked down at the red soaked mess his clothes had become, not even fully realizing his face and head looked even worse. He had almost forgotten his appearance while standing behind the curtain. But then the buzz he always got after Lana activated his nanobots made the aches and pains of over-exertion, injury, and even death seem sort of vague.

"Some dumb-ass Nazi pig decided to empty his machine gun into me. I was just lucky Lana managed to heal me before they dragged her away."

Indy walked over to join them, but it wasn't until he got close that he got a good look past Clark's shoulder at the other man. The man was soaked in blood and the front of his shirt was laced with what could only be bullet-holes, which Indy had seen way too often during his previous encounters with the Nazis. What the hell was going on? How could the man be standing there so nonchalantly? A million questions seemed to run through his head at once, but all that came out of his mouth was a strangled, "Marion?"

Whitney looked at the other man standing behind Clark. He hadn't had a good angle on the screen of Lana's phone when she had been talking to them earlier, but this had to be Indiana Jones, even if he didn't look at all like the Indy from the movies.

"Doctor Jones. The last time I saw your wife she was okay. And Lana went with her to look out for her."

Indy just continued to stare at the blood-encrusted man.

Clark noticed the look on Indy's face and was afraid after the events down in dungeon, the appearance of Whitney, and the continued absence of his wife that Indy might be going into shock. Clark couldn't help but remember his own reaction back in the Roman arena at Chloe and Lana's apparent deaths. At least Indy wasn't blasting everything in sight with killer heat vision.

"Hank," Clark hissed as he grabbed Indy's shoulders and gave him a shake. "This is my friend Whitney. He's okay and your wife is too. We just need to keep it together until we find her."

Indy seemed to sag a little and then he nodded his head to indicate he was going to be okay.

Clark nodded in turn and then turned his attention back to Whitney.

"How long have the girls been gone?"

"At least fifteen minutes."

"Any idea where to?"

Whitney's eyes flicked over to Indy for a second. "Well, I was sort of dead at the time, but Lana said Major Biberach, the one who shot me, talked about taking them to Hitler."

Fifteen minutes, thought Clark. By car that was enough time for them to be anywhere by now. Just running off in search of them and leaving Indy and Whitney stranded here with all of these Nazis wasn't going to work. If they got killed and Lana wasn't around in time to revive them . . . Clark shuddered and realized they needed a plan.

Just then Indy spoke up. "Taking them to Hitler doesn't make any sense."

Clark and Whitney both turned to him. "What?"

"I remember reading in this morning's paper. Hitler is in Vienna meeting with the Austrian President. He isn't due back in Berlin until the evening before the opening ceremonies. I can't believe they would take Marion out of the country when they are trying to use her as leverage to make me talk."

Clark looked at Whitney. "You're sure Lana said Hitler?"

Whitney nodded. "Yeah. If it is not Hitler, then she must have misunderstood. As I said, I was out of it when that conversation took place."

'Damn,' thought Clark. 'Now we have no idea where they have gone. And I don't like the idea of having to wait for the Nazis to contact us. We need to start interrogating some people for ourselves.' As he stood there trying to decide how to proceed, he suddenly realized the vibrations he had been feeling ever since they were down in the dungeon had stopped. Either the guards he had trapped had given up or they were free.

"Double damn,' thought Clark. 'Now they are probably loose again and I will have to deal with them all over.' Then it occurred to him that Indy had provided the information he needed to defeat them permanently. The braids. And if he could get them away from the Nazis and give them to Whitney and Indy, well, it wouldn't make them bullet-proof, but it would certainly give them an edge. Then they could start worrying about gathering some Intel and starting to track the girls.

Clark grabbed Whitney and Indy by the arms and shoved them back towards the drapes. "You guys need to get back behind the drapes and then wait for me." Clark gave Whitney a knowing glance before continuing. "I have a quick errand to run. I will be back in sixty seconds."

Whitney understood Clark needed to use his 'special' abilities and that he wanted him to keep Indy out of the way. Whitney nodded and then pulled the curtains open enough to let Indy and him through.

Indy glanced curiously from Clark to Whitney. One of them was standing there after obviously having been shot full of holes from a large caliber gun. And the other had somehow managed to fight and beat two men with the Machlaphah braids. Whatever was going on, it was way out of his league.

As he stepped behind the curtain and it started to swing shut, Indy turned to Whitney. "So, are your healing abilities another benefit of one of the Vulcan devices?"

'Vulcan devices?' thought Whitney glancing over at Clark through the partially open curtain.

Clark shrugged with just a hint of embarrassment on his face. He hated to dump Whitney into the middle of things with no warning but hoped Whitney could cope. Hell, if he was going to hang around with Chloe and the new Lana, he better learn.

"I thought it was best to let Hank in on a little of what was really going on. He has agreed to sign the required confidentiality papers once we get back stateside." Then Clark gave Whitney a quick wink and sprinted to the door.

Whitney sighed and let the drape fall closed. Ever since the tornado there hadn't been a single dull moment.

Turning to Indy, he began in a whisper. "So, Hank, what exactly has Clark covered, so we won't have to go over things twice?"

End of Chapter 10

Author's Note:

Well, not much action in this chapter, however it will pick up in the next. I guess I have been a dialogue writing mood lately.

So, what do you think of 'The Machlaphah of Samson'? It is a relic I don't remember seeing anyone use before and I think it fits well into a Clark Kent story. Now I just need to come up with some interesting plot twists involving them. (Hmm, should they get to bring some of them back to the present for use by the others?)

Until next time,

Duane


	11. Biological Families Chapter 11

Biological Families

Author: duane at duaneaakre dot com

Disclaimer: As always I own nothing. Well I own a house, two cars, a pair of jetskis, and a lot of other junk, but none of these characters.

Story Rating: R The story may drift into the HBO range rather than stay in the WB range, so to be on the safe side, I am rating this R.

Chapter 11

As Clark sprinted to the door leading from the ballroom back into the main hallway, he scanned the hallway with his x-ray vision. Several people were present in the hallway, but he no longer had the patience to wait for the way to become clear. 'Fuck it,' thought Clark. 'The girls are missing. Whitney has already been killed once tonight. If anything happens to him or Indy without Lana here, they will be dead, permanently. Every extra second we spend in this damned chateau increases everyone's risk. If I am going to stop the guards with the mystical braids of Samson, there is no time to waste.'

Hoping Indy wouldn't see what was about to happen, Clark accelerated up to full 'speed mode' just before reaching the door. If Indy had been watching, he would have seen Clark simply vanish. Even the door opened and closed so fast, it would have gone unnoticed. But Indy was not watching as Whitney had already dropped the curtain they were hiding behind.

Clark raced towards the stairs leading back to the dungeon. The vibrations from the pounding of the guards he had entombed within the rock wall had stopped only a couple of minutes earlier; either they had given up and were still trapped or they had escaped. Either way they were still down there somewhere.

Mentally preparing to deal with the two super-humanly strong adversaries again, Clark reminded himself they had only been able to hold their own before he used his 'super-speed' abilities. This time he intended to just stay in speed-mode. With luck, he should be able to find the men, strip them of their hair pieces, and return to Indy and Whitney almost before they knew he was gone.

Picturing the layout of the dungeon in his head as he ran down the stairs, Clark was depending on his speed to keep him from being seen and therefore wasn't scanning ahead. It wasn't until he rounded the last bend that he discovered the exit to the dungeon had been blocked off from the far side. Braking to a halt, Clark took a moment to scan the entire dungeon level.

Starting with the location off to the left, where he had trapped the two men earlier, he saw they had indeed managed to fracture the entire thirty feet of hard granite, which had separated them from dungeon, and had made good their escape.

Looking straight ahead, he saw the bottom of the stairwell had been blockaded with a fifteen foot thick wall of blocks, apparently stolen from the corridor leading to the 'black' cathedral. Beyond the blockage, five sets of machine guns had been set up with crossing fields of fire. And these where not the small sub-machine guns carried on a sling over the shoulder like the first soldiers he had encountered had carried. No, these were big, heavy-duty guns mounted on tripods manned by three soldiers each.

Continuing his scan to the right, he found another dozen soldiers lining the passage to the 'black' cathedral. And in that dark chamber were arrayed another twenty-five to thirty men. Had that many men really passed down the stairs while he had been hiding in the storeroom talking to Indy? Looking closer at the occupants of the black cathedral, he saw most of the men were assembled facing the front of the chamber. Three men were grouped around the altar as though they were leading some kind of ceremony. It was then he noticed the outline of the body lying on the altar, a small body compared to the men surrounding it. While he was coming to the realization the body belonged to a woman, he saw one of the men raise a large metallic blade. They were going to kill her! Remembering the body hung from the large inverted cross, he knew human sacrifice was not beyond these people. What if Lana and Marion hadn't been taken away like Whitney thought? If he was wrong about them being taken to Hitler, he could also be wrong about them having been taken from the chateau. What if the woman was one of them? For the moment, thoughts of the men with Samson's gifts had to be put aside.

Clark turned back to the improvised barricade. If they thought they were prepared for a frontal assault, they were about to find out they were very wrong. After the five seconds he had paused to scope out the dungeon, Clark accelerated back up to 'speed mode'. The fifteen foot thick wall of loosely stacked granite blocks didn't stand a chance against a shoulder backed up by a two hundred twenty pound body moving at several thousand miles per hour. The good old equation of Energy equals mass times velocity squared still applied to objects in Clark's path and to the wall he was the equivalent of several tons of TNT.

Before the soldiers manning the guns could even react to the cloud of granite shards engulfing them, Clark was past. He raced down the passage towards the black cathedral expending more attention and effort avoiding the devastation from his previous journey than was required to sidestep the dozen men with sub-machine guns slung from their shoulders. From Clark's uniquely shifted perspective, they seemed to be frozen in time. So great was the time differential, even as he ran past, Clark had sufficient time to turn his intense heat vision on the barrels of each weapon. By using an extremely short burst and a very highly focused beam, Clark was able to localize the damage to just deforming the tips without overheating the cartridges in the ammo clips. With luck, the damage would go unnoticed until they tried to use their weapons.

Clark reached the end of the corridor and this time the door leading into the black cathedral was standing wide open. He ran inside and then paused to look towards the front. The large inverted cross with its perverted cargo still hung on the wall beyond the altar. It seemed like someone should have removed the rotting body, but then Clark remembered it had barely been thirty minutes since he had escorted Indy from this very chamber.

Looking down towards the front, Clark saw the men assembled in the cathedral were all wearing monkish, dark brown, hooded robes. Well, all except for the three men assembled around the altar. And seeing these three, for a moment it almost felt like the scene at the end of the 'Raiders of the Lost Ark'. The three around the altar were dressed in richly embroidered white robes; the one in the center with the large knife was even wearing a tall miter's hat just like Belloq in the movie. As Clark remembered how the scene played out with the brilliant white light burning into the bodies of the soldiers through their eyes, he briefly wondered if he could accomplish the same effect with his heat vision.

But rather than turning his heat vision on the men in the chamber, for the present, Clark contented himself with using it on the blade descending towards the bound girl. Focusing his full power on the knife, he didn't merely melt or deform the blade, but totally vaporized it. One moment the Nazi wannabe high priest was swinging the knife in a lethal arc, and the next he found himself holding only a useless handle.

Clark allowed himself to relax just a little when he saw the girl lying on the altar was blonde. Unless they had some crazy reason for using a wig, this girl was not Lana or Marion. Perhaps it was time to teach these Nazis the error of their ways. If they wanted so badly to conjure up a supernatural being, he would give them one, just not the one they were doubtlessly seeking.

"Hey, asshole," shouted Clark from the back of the room. When the obvious leader looked his way, Clark continued, hoping the man understood English. "Yeah, you. This is my fucking domain. And I am really, really getting tired of your attempts to resurrect those I banished to Hades thousands of years ago."

Clark raised his right hand and pointed to the inverted cross mounted to the wall above the leader. "I will not tolerate that abomination dedicated to my eternal foes. The corrupt flesh of the martyred shall be consumed in cleansing fire as his soul ascends to the heavens."

As Clark paused, the cross, and the body it supported, burst into flames; flames so intense the leader was forced to take an involuntary step back.

"And," bellowed Clark to be heard over the roaring of the fire. "These murals with their hated images of the fallen ones, I WILL NOT tolerate them in my presence."

Then the giant dark paintings and tapestries lining the walls also burst into flames. Between the burning walls and the cross at the front of the chamber, the room was soon awash in more light than it had ever known. Then the heat started to become oppressive and rapidly accumulating smoke began filling the entire space. Where moments before 'hell' had merely been a fashion statement adorning the walls, now the black cathedral was becoming a real-life version of hell itself.

As the smoke continued to thicken, Clark was just getting ready to run up to the front to retrieve the bound girl when the two nearest robed figures abruptly turned and charged him! The two men he had original come down to this dungeon-level to find had been standing unnoticed in the back of the group of hooded figures. Clark had been so focused on intimidating the leader, the others were on him before he realized or could shift into 'speed-mode'.

Both of the men slammed into Clark at once and quickly drove him back towards the rear wall of the dark chamber. This wall was surprisingly thin, only three feet of rock separated the chamber from the abyss beyond. As quickly as they hit it, all three of them crashed through and tumbled out into empty space. The chateau had been built high on a bluff towering above the Spree River. Even this dungeon deep below the visible portion of the medieval structure was still over one hundred fifty feet above river level.

The shock of hitting the wall and then the cold, fresh night air after the stifling heat of the burning dungeon cleared Clark's head of the daze from the sudden attack. Even before they had started to fall, Clark shifted himself back into 'speed-mode'. From Clark's accelerated perspective it was as though the three of them were not falling, but rather floating in space. At what felt like a leisurely pace, Clark worked himself free from the grip of the two now seemingly frozen men. Next he grabbed with both hands the front of the robe of the nearest man. With a sharp outward motion of his hands he tore the heavy woolen robe open from collar to hem. Underneath he found the man was still wearing the nondescript black uniform from their earlier encounter. Like Clark's own original shirt and jacket, this man's uniform was in very rough shape as a result of their previous battle.

As quickly as he had shredded the man's robe, Clark tore open his black jacket and dark gray shirt. Inside, wrapped snugly around the man's waist, he found what he was searching for: one of the Samson braids. As he unwound it from the man's body and then wound it around his own left forearm for safekeeping, Clark marveled at the simple thing which had caused him so much trouble; the braid was just over four feet in length and barely larger in diameter than Clark's middle finger. The black hair was glossy and supple as though it had just been shorn that very day. It didn't look at all like the frayed, brittle hair you saw on ancient mummies' heads.

Turning to the second man, Clark quickly repeated the procedure of opening the man's robe, jacket, and shirt. By the time he had the second braid also wrapped about his arm, the trio had fallen less than two feet and still had at least one hundred fifty more to go.

For Clark, it felt like almost two minutes had passed since he was slammed through the wall. Two minutes, and they had only fallen about eighteen inches. Twisting around, Clark discovered his head was still almost level with the opening their passage had torn into face of the cliff. Unfortunately, their forward momentum had carried them fifteen feet out from vertical wall; leaving it out of reach and a fall to the distant river inevitable.

Clark had always been exceptionally good at doing math in his head. In a flash, the basic equations of motion and acceleration he had learned in the science camp he had attended during the summer between eighth and ninth grades came back to him: velocity equals acceleration times time, distance equals one half acceleration times time squared, time equals the square root of two times distance divided by acceleration . . . Ah, that last equation was the one he needed. Hmm, an eighteen inch drop took about 0.3 seconds under a constant 1G acceleration. A one hundred fifty foot drop took just over three seconds again assuming constant acceleration, which should still apply since he seemed to remember a human had to fall seven or eight seconds to reach terminal velocity. Wow, that really drove home the significance of squaring the time. It would take only ten times as long to fall one hundred times as far.

When Clark realized with his current accelerated perception of time it was going to seem like they would be falling for another twenty minutes, he almost dropped out of 'speed mode' to get the fall over with sooner. But then he happened to look down and discovered the three of them were on a trajectory to hit a large outcropping of rocks in the river rather than the water itself. There was at least a chance the other two would survive a fall from this height if they landed in water, but not a chance in the world if they came down on solid rock. Now that they had been stripped of their magical gift, they had suddenly crossed over the line in Clark's head from enemies to be fought to victims to be saved. If he returned the Samson braids these guys would probably survive, but after all of the trouble he had gone to in order to retrieve these braids, he was only going to give them back as a last resort. No, there had to be another way.

If he streamlined his body, he would fall faster than the 'soon to be flailing' men. If he could reach the ground first, then he could attempt to catch them. He had caught Chloe back in Rome after he tossed her to about the same height, but he had broken several of her ribs in the process. Catching two men who might land at the same time as much as ten or twenty feet apart might be problematic without seriously hurting them or missing one all together. Plus the uneven rocks below would make that even trickier.

The rocks also made the option of hanging onto them all the way down more problematic. Could he flex his legs sufficiently on landing to keep their deceleration low enough to let the others survive?

Then it struck him, easing the deceleration at the bottom wasn't the key. No, slowing their velocity during the fall was the better solution. Several times over the past year he had awoken to find himself floating over his bed, floating in a manner which didn't feel all that different from falling in 'speed-mode'. Could he figure out how to use his abilities to float or at least slow their fall before they reached the rocks? At least in 'speed-mode' he had a good twenty minutes to figure it out.

-

From Clark's perspective, it was about eighteen minutes later when he achieved some limited control. The two Nazi agents were about thirty feet above the rocks with expressions of terror frozen on their seemingly immobile faces. Clark was thirty feet higher having maintained a constant altitude for over a 'speed-mode' minute.

When he had tried to replicate the 'sleep-floating' effect back on the farm, he had never had any success. But he had never thought to try it while in 'speed-mode'. Chloe had asked him once, shortly after he had told her his secret, why he didn't produce a sonic boom when he ran faster than the speed of sound. Bullets did. Airplanes did. That one car that broke the sound barrier did. So why not him?

Somehow, when he was in 'speed-mode', all the normal laws of physics didn't seem to apply. Air moved around his body differently and, as a result, no sonic boom was produced. Now, it looked like the laws of gravity didn't fully apply to him either in this strange, exotic state which only he was able to achieve. Could everyone do this back wherever he was from? Could others of his kind communicate with each other in this accelerated existence? With all of its advantages, if everyone could communicate, why would they even bother with 'normal' time? This sudden expansion of his gifts, and the associated ideas it brought to mind, raised a whole new category of questions about whom he was and where he was from.

But those thoughts would have to be put on hold for later; the other two men were getting dangerously close to the rocks if he was going to slow their descent without a lethal deceleration. Clark mentally thought to himself 'down' and quickly his body began plummeting towards the others. As he reached the first man, he forced his body to match their velocity. Then he wrapped left arm around the other's waist. Next he turned his attention towards the second man, who was at roughly the same height but about ten feet away. So far, Clark had been focusing his abilities on learning to control the speed of his descent. Now he was going to have to master some lateral control, if he was going to reach the second man.

Closing his eyes to focus for a moment, Clark concentrated on sensing his surroundings. It was like using his x-ray vision, only with his whole body rather than just his eyes. The man in his arms, then the rocks and water below, and finally the other man all came into sharp clarity. Now with an intense effort he began to will his body towards the other man. Slowly at first and then with more speed he moved towards the second man. After what felt like a long ten seconds he opened his eyes and found his body had moved just as he had pictured it in his mind. The other man was now within his reach. Quickly Clark reached out his right arm, grabbed the man's sleeve, and pulled them together until he had an arm wrapped tightly about each man's waist.

They were about fifteen feet above the rocks when Clark was finally able to slam on the brakes and slow their descent. Knowing in his accelerated 'speed-mode' state it would take another thirty seconds to reach the ground, Clark rotated his body until his feet were pointed 'down' and then willed himself to begin slowing.

His control was still less than perfect and they ultimately hit the ground a little faster than he had intended, but still well within the range a 'normal' person could survive without significant injuries.

-

The two Nazis, Schultz and Jaeger, never realized as they slammed their bodies into the strange intruder that the wall at the back of the dark cathedral was so thin. Before they knew what had happened, all three of them were tumbling in free-fall out over the river. Then, only a fraction of a second later they both felt the extremely unpleasant sensation of having their mystical powers ripped away. The sudden feeling of normalcy was like going abruptly from the healthiest day of your life to the worst case of flu imaginable. Weakness. Every ache and pain exaggerated. And after their battles with this intruder, their bodies were filled with aches and pains the 'gift' had been ameliorating. Now it all came rushing back and for a moment they forgot their current plight in their sudden agony, but only for a moment, as the sensation of falling quickly refilled their senses.

It was the dark of night, but they could still see the water glistening far below. As they realized without their 'gift' this fall would surely be fatal, they both began to scream and flail about. Even though the fall would only last a couple of seconds, in some ways it seemed to last infinitely longer as their lives did truly flash before their eyes and their minds reviewed all of the decisions, good and bad, which had led up to this moment.

The dark, suddenly rock-filled waters seemed to rush up towards them, completely filling their field of view, when abruptly a powerful arm wrapped itself around their waists and their terrifying descent began to slow. The feet of the man holding them slammed into the ground and they were jarred lose from his grip. They crashed down on their hands and knees, badly scraping them on the sharp, wet, and cold rocks. After a glance at each other, they looked up with fear-filled eyes at the man standing between them. The man had lost his shirt, tie, and jacket somewhere along the way and was now wearing an ill-fitting Wehrmacht private's jacket, which looked about six sizes too small. The jacket was completely unbuttoned and had sleeves so short they seemed to barely come down to the middle of his forearms. Not that his forearms were bare, no, they were covered by the Samson braids normally worn about their own waists. The expression on the man's face said the braids were of no real importance to him, but merely wound around his arms for safekeeping.

A nearly endless stream of questions ran through the minds of the two men as they looked up at this man who had twice defeated them. What was he? How had he originally trapped them within the solid rock walls of the dungeon? Now, how had he managed to fall from the great height and stayed on his feet? If he had stripped them of their powers, why had he then saved them? Who was he?

-

As Clark dropped down to 'normal' time after one of his longest ever apparent stays in 'speed mode', he looked down at the two men sprawled before him. Stripped of their powers, they suddenly seemed of little consequence. There was still a girl in that lofty dungeon to be rescued. And Whitney and Indy were waiting in the ballroom for his return. And Lana and Marion were lost somewhere in Nazi Germany. And back home, Chloe and Lex were just minutes away from death.

No, he had achieved his goal, these men were neutralized. He needed to turn his attention to other urgent matters. Still, it was probably worth a moment or two to put the fear in them as one more small way to hinder the Nazis' activities in the area of the occult.

Grabbing the men by the backs of their collars, Clark effortlessly hoisted them to their feet. He swung them around until he could look into their faces.

"I will NOT tolerate you fucking Nazis meddling in the affairs of Gods. If you don't want the whole of Germany to feel my wrath, you will tell your people to stop all research into relics and the occult."

Clark paused to look back up towards the distant chateau. The others followed his gaze and saw the large plume of smoke escaping from the hole they had punched in the wall of the black cathedral.

"Don't worry about telling the ones up there," continued Clark, as he saw where they were staring. "I don't think many of them or this wretched chateau will survive this night."

As they returned their attention to him, Clark snarled out with all of the power he could put into his voice when he went into 'God' mode. "FEAR ME!"

Then Clark tossed them fifty feet out into the center of the river. He only watched for a couple of seconds until they appeared gasping at the surface. Before the swift current swept them away downstream, Clark was already turning his attention back to the towering cliff. At the top sat the ancient chateau. A wide balcony stretched across the facade providing a commanding view of the river and the valley beyond. As he stared at it, Clark decided the balcony had to be right outside of the ballroom where he had left Whitney and Indy. If he stared hard enough, he might be able to pick out their silhouettes from here.

But before he could think about rejoining the others, he still had unfinished business in the dungeon. Oh, he had accomplished his original goal of disarm the men with Samson's braids, but there was still the matter of rescuing the girl those stupid Nazis had been trying to sacrifice. Turning his attention back to the gaping hole at the dungeon level, Clark flexed his knees low and then leapt hard in its direction. His feet had barely left the ground when he once more shifted his body back into 'speed-mode', where he could again control his trajectory. Clark grinned to himself; admit it, it was more than just controlling his trajectory, he was actually able to FLY!

-

Without having to limit himself for fear of hurting the two men and not needing all of the time it had taken to figure things out, Clark was able to drive himself much faster on this ascent than on the previous descent. In this accelerated existence less than two minutes seemed to pass compared to the twenty minutes needed for the trip down. In the 'real' world only a small fraction of a second passed and his flight to anyone on the ground would have been nearly as invisible as his fastest running.

As he approached the opening back into the dungeon, some of Clark's control over his lateral motion wavered. In the end, he crashed into the side of the cliff a good ten feet from his goal. Driving his impossibly strong fingers straight into the hard rock surface, Clark decided these results weren't too bad for a first attempt. It had taken him weeks to fully control his x-ray vision. And there were the three Italian forests he had burned down before he mastered the heat vision. He realized he would need to find some time in the next few days to practice. He did wish Chloe was there to help with the practice sessions and, truthfully, to share in his excitement.

But further thoughts of flying needed to be put aside for later; the smoke billowing from the opening was getting very thick. He needed to get back in there and find the girl and then get back to Whitney and Indy. Using his fingers as human pitons, Clark quickly made his way over to the hole and swung through.

The smoke in the dungeon was so thick; he had to revert to his x-ray vision to see. Scanning the chamber, he found a large crowd struggling to get through the constriction of the doorway into the hallway. Then up at the front of the cathedral, he saw the girl was still tied to the altar. And from the way she was struggling, she was definitely having trouble breathing. The three men who had been leading the ceremony when he first arrived were nowhere to be found. Most likely they were mixed in with the others struggling to get through the door, but since in x-ray vision mode their white robes looked much the same as the brown robes worn by the others, Clark couldn't pick them out from a distance. At the moment, rescuing the girl definitely took precedence over identifying the leaders.

Clark raced up to the altar at the front of the cathedral where the girl was bound. At this end of the cathedral the fire and the heat were far more intense. Burning fragments of the tapestries which had covered the walls were coming loose and drifting down towards the floor. Several had already landed on the girl's white gown and it was beginning to smolder. As he reached her, Clark thought he was going to be too late; the smell of burning flesh was almost overpowering. Quickly, he brushed away the glowing embers. When he saw that none of them had penetrated through her gown, he felt a surge of relief as it became clear the burning flesh smell was only coming from the corpse on the inverted cross.

Crouching down, Clark tore free the three sets of ropes that had been used to tie the girl to the altar. As he lifted her into his arms, she experienced another coughing spasm. He quickly pulled her face into his chest and tried to use his open jacket to protect her from the smoke and falling debris. When her face touched his chest, he could feel the heat radiating off of her expose skin. If he didn't get her out of this furnace soon, her flesh was going to have second or third degree burns. Assuming, of course, she didn't succumb to smoke inhalation first.

Accelerating back up into 'speed-mode', Clark quickly scanned the exit. Most of the men had now made it out of the cathedral, but the long hallway leading to the stairway was still heavily clogged with bodies. He could force his way through the crowd, but that way would risk hurting the girl. Looking further to his left, he saw the antechamber to the cathedral, which had been set-up as an impromptu torture chamber. He saw the large mound of debris was still there, where his two opponents had initially tried to bury him. If he used his heat vision to cut a passage directly from the cathedral to the antechamber and then a second passage from the antechamber directly to the stairs, he could bypass all of the men in the corridor. But that still left a long line of men heading up the stairs to contend with before he and the girl could reach the main level of the chateau.

No, the stairs did not look like a desirable route out, which left the hole in the back wall of the cathedral. At least that route had the benefit of being the shortest distance to the balcony off of the ballroom. Thirty minutes ago, he would never have considered trying to scale the outside cliff while carrying a barely conscious girl, but now he had another option. His control might not be perfect, but his flying abilities should be good enough to get them safely up to the balcony. Plus, this route had the benefit of getting them up to the main level quickly enough that the four of them might get clear of the chateau before the people up there fully understood the disaster which had occurred down here.

Clark didn't want the Nazis to ever be able to use this dungeon again for the dark purposes he had witnessed. As he ran the hundred feet from the altar to the hole in the back wall, he remembered the destruction of the World Trade Center towers on September 11th. They hadn't collapse immediately with the impact of the airliners. No, it had taken almost forty-five minutes for the heat of the burning fuel to take its toll. Similarly, Clark didn't want this dungeon-level to immediately collapse, he felt more comfortable if the men in the corridor and on the stairs had at least a chance to escape. Therefore he started to selectively destroy the structure which supported the millions of tons of rock above the dungeon. He used his powerful heat vision to vaporize three quarters of the columns supporting the roof rather than all of them. And as he approached the back wall, he enlarged the hole from eight feet wide to nearly thirty feet leaving an unsustainable span cantilevered above the abyss. Even in 'speed-mode' he could hear the rock overhead beginning to crack and fracture. Studying the fracture pattern briefly with his x-ray vision, he realized he might have done even more significant damage than he intended; the whole side of the cliff might let go and take the chateau down into the river with it. Damn, he had better hurry and get Whitney and Indy clear of the building.

When Clark reached the greatly expanded opening in the cliff face, he didn't even pause before launching himself through in a flat dive like he had often used from the starting blocks at the pool back at Smallville High. Of course, he had never tried diving from the starting blocks with a woman cradled in his arms, but then he hadn't been able to fly when he had done it before either.

Clark shot out of the hole in the cliff-face faster than any bullet. Immediately, he arched into a climbing loop to reach the balcony outside of the ballroom as quickly as possible. It felt good to be out in the clean, fresh air again and to be able to once more see with his normal vision rather than having to continuously use his x-ray mode.

This time the distance he need to travel was shorter and his control a little better. It only felt like it took a little over thirty seconds in the accelerated 'speed-mode' before he was approaching the balcony from slightly above. He took a few extra seconds on their final approach to try for as gentle of a landing as he could manage; the girl had already been through enough tonight without suffering any broken bones because he landed too hard.

Light as a feather, Clark landed on the fifteen foot wide balcony halfway between the doors to the ballroom and the railing above the abyss. Clark dropped back to 'normal' speed as he lowered the girl to her feet.

"Can you stand?" he asked, as he kept a stabilizing arm around her waist.

The girl raised a hand to her mouth and coughed for at least ten seconds before she was finally able to raise her eyes and take in the sudden change in venue. Then she frantically swept her head around as the abrupt change from the altar in the smoke-filled dungeon to this high exposed balcony registered.

"Was Geschah? Wie erhielten wir hier?" she began as her eyes darted wildly about. Finally, her eyes settled on Clark. "Wer sind Sie?"

Clark shook his head and then used up most of his repertoire of German. "Ich verstehe nicht. Sprechen Sie Englisch?"

The girl hesitated for a moment and then answered shyly. "I . . . ah . . . speak . . . a . . . little."

Clark let out a small sigh. He sure wished he had Chloe's knowledge of languages. Always ending up in places where he had to depend on others to communicate was annoyingly inconvenient.

"I am Clark."

"Gretchen," answered the girl. Then trying to mimic a gesture she had seen in several American movies, she held out her left hand for Clark to shake.

Before they could proceed any further with their introductions, a massive tremor shook the balcony. Looking down with his x-ray vision, Clark could see giant chunks of the cliff starting to break away down near the dungeon-level. They didn't have much time before the whole chateau might follow suit.

Instead of shaking the offered hand, he took it in his right and then took two quick strides and reached one of the numerous glass doors fronting on the balcony. With sudden sense urgency, he grabbed the door handle in his left hand and jerked it open so hard, the entire door went sailing past them and disappeared into the abyss. Not pausing to see the girl's reaction, he pulled open the curtains and led her into the ballroom.

Two steps into the ballroom, he froze. Whitney and Indy were no longer hiding behind the curtains. No, they were both kneeling on the floor about twenty-five feet apart. Each of them had the barrel of a submachine gun pressed firmly against their neck. A third German, an officer he quickly recognized as the one who witnessed the initial fight in the dungeon, was halfway between the others and was just in the process of turning from facing the hall doors. Obviously, he had been waiting for Clark and had expected him to enter from that direction.

"Halt!" shouted Captain Hoffman in German. Then he raised his own pistol and pointed it in the general direction of Clark and the girl. But having seen bullets bounce harmlessly off this man before, he could not fully subdue the quaking of his gun hand.

"You will surrender immediately," continued Hoffman still speaking in German. "These bullets may have no effect on you, but I don't think the same thing is true for your accomplices. Therefore if you don't surrender, I will have them shot."

Clark had no idea what the German officer was saying, but could easily guess given the situation. Still, he fell back on his one memorized response. "Ich verstehe nicht. Sprechen Sie Englisch?"

Hoffman in his frustration let loose with another torrent of German. As he spoke, he was gesturing wildly with his pistol.

When he finally wound down, Gretchen decided to try and help things. She didn't understand how, but Clark had rescued her from the hooded men who had kidnapped her and taken her to the dungeon. If he could do that, perhaps he could handle this situation, too. But before she could try to communicate with him, she needed to calm the German officer, who was saying the craziest things and was starting to seem almost hysterical. Quietly she spoke up, also in German, "Herr Captain, I know a little English. Perhaps I could help translate?"

A little of the maniac sheen in Hoffman's eyes receded as someone, anyone, responded to him. He gave the girl a curt nod, but kept his gun pointed in their direction.

Gretchen turned to Clark. "Clark?"

Clark flicked his eyes towards her for a moment before returned his attention to the German officer.

"Yeah?"

Gretchen licked her lips for a second. "The captain wants you to . . . ah . . . oh, I don't know the word. He wants you to . . . give . . . up. Or he is going to totung, er, kill your friends. But first he wants you to give up your . . . this sounds crazy . . . hair?"

Just then another even larger tremor shook the chateau. As the whole building started to shift, all twenty-six glass doors leading onto the exposed balcony shattered at once. The heavy curtains covering the doors kept most of the glass out of the room, but the shattering sound was unmistakable and very scary. Immediately the winds that always buffeted that side of the building started to make the exposed curtains flutter and flap.

The captain staggered under the assault and Gretchen fell to her knees. For a moment before the shaking once again subsided, Clark was afraid one of the guards holding Whitney or Indy would accidentally let off a burst from his gun.

Pulling the girl to her feet, Clark quickly said. "Tell him I set off explosives at the key locations in the dungeon. The whole bluff including this building is about to collapse into the river. We all must get out of here immediately."

Gretchen couldn't follow everything Clark said in such a rush, but she got the key words: explosives, collapse, must get out.

Rapidly she spoken in German and the officer made a short, harsh reply.

"The captain says you the hair must give and then you up must give . . . sorry, meaning you must given up."

Clark briefly glanced down while using his x-ray vision. Even though the worst of the shaking had momentarily stopped, he could still see bigger and bigger chunks falling away from the dungeon level. They had at most a couple of minutes before the chateau started breaking up and followed the rest of the hill down into the distant river. He had to hurry, if he was going to get Whitney, Indy, and Gretchen clear in time.

Hoping to distract the Germans for a couple of seconds, Clark nodded. Then he pulled the ends of the braids free. Slowly they unraveled from his forearms and dropped, coil by coil, to the floor.

-

Marion couldn't stop the tears that rolled from her eyes as the Germans led Lana and her from the ballroom, down the hallway to the front entrance, out into the courtyard, and finally into the back of the same van which had delivered them to the chateau less than twenty minutes earlier. That poor boy, Whitney, was dead. She and Hank had been through several adventures before and always they had come through unscathed. Well, maybe some bruises and a few broken bones, but never anything like this. What kind of a person was this Major Biberach to just gun him down? What would he do next? At the moment he was sitting across from her, barely visible in the dim light. His beady little eyes were fixed on them with a barely concealed hunger. If he could kill with no sign of remorse, what would he do with them after their usefulness was over? A shudder of despair joined the tears she couldn't suppress.

But she was supposed to be the mature, strong one. And it was because of Hank and she that these kids had been drawn into this mess. If she was feeling all of this pain from Whitney's death, what was Lana going through? She had known Whitney for barely an hour, but Lana had been his friend. At first Lana had nearly gone berserk. And the way she had fought those men, where had she learned to fight like that? But then, when the Major had put the gun against her own head, the fight had simply gone out of the girl. Ever since then the girl had calmly followed the Major's orders with little show of emotion. The shock of her friend's death must have truly set in.

Marion reached over and clasped Lana's hand. "I am so sorry about your friend," she said quietly.

But not quietly enough to suit the Major. "Silence. You will only speak when you are told to."

Lana squeezed her hand back. Very softly, she said in the Tibetan language they shared. "Trust me."

Before Marion could figure out what Lana meant or wanted, Lana abruptly dug her nails into Marion's hand. Dug them in so hard, she could feel them break the skin. She had to work hard not to cry out as she felt the blood well up to the surface. Why was Lana hurting her? What did she mean by 'trust me'?

Marion sat there trying to control her breathing when suddenly she started getting a series of overwhelming visions. Visions that seemed so real, it was like they were more real than her own memories. They were Lana's memories. No, her memories. She was Lana.

- Flash -

She was lying on a couch with a bald, young man. With Lex. And she felt so happy and safe.

- Flash -

She was watching ostrich-drawn chariots race in the Circus Maximus.

- Flash -

She was being sucked up into a tornado with Whitney in his truck.

- Flash -

She was allowing her eyes to fill with blood as she and Chloe played their little vampire game with Lionel's head.

- Flash -

She was introducing Clark to her parents in a dark and foggy cemetery.

- Flash -

She was being tortured by soldiers in a scary Roman dungeon.

- Flash -

She was waiting tables at The Talon. Lex was there, but he was no more than her business partner.

- Flash -

She was walking through the strange green doorway of the time machine, moving from Chloe's secret laboratory to a dark alley just off the Olympicstrasse.

- Flash -

She was being held hostage with Whitney, Clark, and a bunch of her classmates in the control room of the fertilizer plant.

- Flash -

She was watching Whitney play quarterback with the Metropolis Sharks and she felt so happy for Whitney and his Dad.

- Flash -

She was fencing in a practice session against the French champion at the Olympic Village and even holding back, it was difficult not to win.

- Flash -

She was forced to watch the execution squad throw lance after lance into her best friend Chloe before they turned their attention to her.

- Flash -

- Flash -

- Flash -

Hundreds and then thousands of visions came faster and faster until Marion finally, mercifully blacked out.

-

Marion suddenly came awake and once more her mind seemed both clear and fully her own. The memories from the visions were still present, but fading until they felt more like normal memories. Scarily, they were not her memories, but felt just as real. Lana had been in ancient Rome like she told the Major back at the chateau. Those memories were just as real and clear as the memories from earlier this same day at the Olympic Village. How was that possible? Then she recalled the memories of the time machine. Time machine?

Slowly, Marion got passed Lana's overwhelming memories and came back to the present. She was standing with her eyes closed; a refreshing cool breeze was ruffling her hair. Wait a minute; she had been sitting in the back of the van. If she had truly blacked out after whatever had happened, surely she should still be sitting or even slumped over.

Cautiously, Marion opened her eyes. Before she could even begin to take in her stunning surroundings, Lana spoke up.

"Marion, are you okay? Do you understand me?"

Marion's eyes were drawn to Lana's voice, but when she looked at Lana she was even more bewildered than before. Lana was no longer dressed in the semi-formal gray business suit she had been wearing only moments ago. No, suddenly she was wearing some extremely exotic costume. Her jacket and blouse had been replaced with a row of golden metallic plates, ten inches wide and one inch tall. The six plates, which were embossed with intricate patterns, were each suspended from the one above by a small golden link in the outer corners. The plates left most of her cleavage exposed and stopped short of her bare navel. Most disconcerting of all was the way various portions of her breasts and nipples came into view as she moved, due to the half inch gaps between the plates.

Marion couldn't stop her eyes from traveling down until they took in the golden silk wrap tied casually low about her tiny waist, a wrap that ended well short of the girl's knees. After her eyes wandered all the way down to Lana's bare feet, she forced them to traverse slowly back up to the girl's face.

And then she received the biggest shock of all. Lana's eyes were completely surrounded by a pitch-black painted-on mask looking more than anything like the mask around a raccoon's eyes. It left the whites of her eyes looking distinctly inhuman as her eyes similarly darted around Marion's face and body. The rest of Lana's face was covered in alternating stripes of turquoise and gold paint like something you would expect to see on a member of some long forgotten tribe from deepest Africa or perhaps the depths of the Amazon basin. Finally, Marion's gaze reached the top of Lana's head and took in the most elaborate jade headband she had ever seen. If Hank had found that headband in some long forgotten tomb, he would have spent days or even weeks talking of little else.

"Where are we? Why are you dressed like that?" was all Marion could think to ask.

Lana glanced down as though taking in her attire for the very first time. "The real question is, why are we both dressed like this?" After taking another long lingering look at Marion, Lana turned to take in their surroundings, as she added. "I am sure the answer will be forthcoming soon."

'Both dressed like this?' echoed Marion in her own head as she glanced down to see she was indeed wearing the same outfit as Lana. Although on her somewhat older, more voluptuous body the effect was very different. The metal plates were pulled tightly against her chest leaving the sides of her larger breasts prominently exposed. And a good portion of her nipples were sticking out between the second and third plates. Quickly she brought her hands up to cover as much of her exposed breasts as possible.

Just then a voice called out, "I thought Marion might appreciate seeing the civilization where her wedding ring was created."

Lana and Marion turned to find a stunning creature approaching them. The first thing to attract Marion's eyes was the massive headdress of solid white feathers which extended down her back all the way to the floor. Next was the hammered gold mask which covered her forehead, eyes, and nose. Then on down to the lower portion of her face and the painted stripes that matched Lana's, and doubtlessly her own, except this girl's were magenta and gold. Finally, Marion's glance traveled down to her gown which consisted solely of a fine gold chain-link mesh, a very open mesh which hid none, absolutely none, of her physical charms.

Marion's gaze was locked on this erotic, exotic beauty and it wasn't until Lana spoke up that the spell was finally broken.

"Laura, you slut."

At the comment the girl, obviously named Laura, burst out laughing. When she finally calmed down, she clapped her hands and then reached up to remove the headdress and the attached half mask. Before she had lifted it more than an inch, two more incredibly beautiful girls seemed to materialize out of nowhere to help with its removal.

As the two girls carried the headpiece away, Laura sighed. "I had almost forgotten how annoying that stupid headpiece was. It's too hot, heavy, and scratchy."

With the headpiece removed, Marion could see this new girl's hair was dyed the same shade of magenta as the paint on her face. And removing the gold mask revealed the same painted-on black mask as Lana wore.

"What is going on?" asked Marion, still carefully covering her breasts with her hands.

"It is the year 833 B.C. We are in Jaguar City. I am Queen Atalaya, ruler of the Uros Empire. Later today I am turning over control of my empire to my daughter, Azurduy. To commemorate this historic occasion, I had this ring specially made," and here Laura lifted the ring Hank had given Marion.

Marion stared at the ring. The names the girl used sounded familiar. Then she remembered the conversation about the ring back at the hotel. Had she fainted from the shock of the boy's death? Was this all just a dream? Repeating the thought out loud, she whispered, "Am I dreaming?"

"No," said Lana with a glare towards Laura; although the facial cues everyone used to identify emotions were lost under all of the paint. "This is real. Well, no, it is not real, but it is not a dream either. Shit, this is difficult to explain. Laura, couldn't you have picked a little more normal place for us to talk?"

Laura shrugged, which caused her mesh gown to shimmer. Once more the others' attention was attracted to her physical assets which this gown revealed rather than concealed. Marion was shocked to realize it wasn't only the hair on the girl's head which had been dyed a bright magenta.

"Well, you said earlier The Talon was boring and you wanted to see other places. Marion's ring seemed to make this a logical choice. Come on, you have to check out the view."

With that comment, Laura swept out onto the surrounding terrace and the view the others first experienced was her effectively naked body as she stepped into the bright light.

Marion turned to Lana. "Who is she? What is going on? Did we actually come here via the time machine?"

Lana looked at Marion, the whites of her eyes seeming to get bigger within the surrounding black mask. "You know about the time machine?"

"I have a memory of you passing through a translucent green doorway and ending up in an alley in the Olympic Village. Where are you from?"

Lana sighed. "We have a lot to discuss. We might as well join Laura for her tour while we talk."

Lana reached for Marion's hand and then noticed the way the woman's arms where protectively wrapped across her chest. Well, life was a lot more conservative back in the 1930's then in the twenty-first century. Plus, Marion hadn't spent an extended period back in ancient Rome to have some of her inhibitions stripped away.

"Here, before we go outside, perhaps this will make things a little more comfortable," said Lana.

Marion watched as Lana closed her eyes in obvious concentration. When she opened them, she asked with a downward nod of her head, "Is that better?"

Marion suddenly realized the metallic plates were no longer under her hands. When she cautiously removed them, she discovered she was now wearing a garment that looked like a Hawaiian sarong except rather than the traditional floral pattern; it had instead a striped gold and turquoise silk design, which matched their facial decorations. This sarong was much more conservative, extending from nearly the top of her breasts down almost to her knees. It surprised Marion how quickly this new outfit made her feel more relaxed.

"How did you do that?"

Lana clasped Marion's now free hand and headed towards the terrace. "No matter how real this place feels, it is not. All of this is taking place within our conjoined minds. Sometimes I let Laura have free reign, because it is fun to experience some of the nearly endless things she has seen and done in her incredibly long life. But I can control things as well, when it suits me."

Marion and Lana stepped out onto the terrace. Spread out before them was a living, vibrant city. The city sprawled across six ever-descending terraces until it reached the shore of the vast encircling lake. Its dominant color was gold. Gold highlighted buildings. Gold encrusted monuments. Even the very streets seemed to sparkle in the brilliant sunlight.

"My god," said Marion, as she looked out on the city in wonderment. "This must be El Dorado."

Laura smiled and for the first time the others noticed how her teeth seemed to have been dyed almost black. "The legends the Spanish Conquistadors were hunting were based on this fabled city. But they are still almost twenty-five hundred years in the future and by then this city will have been gone for millennia."

Marion looked at Laura. "We still haven't been properly introduced."

"Sorry," said Lana. "This is Laura. Well, that is her current name, she has had many names down through history including in this era, Atalaya, as she mentioned earlier. She was born seventeen thousand years ago near the end of a long lost, very high technology civilization which existed just before the last ice age. She was injected with an experimental chemical which keeps her body permanently frozen at the age of sixteen and which also almost instantly heals any wound.

"A side effect of the chemical in her body is that she can communicate like this and heal anyone with whom she has shared blood."

"Shared blood?" asked Marion. "Is that why you dug your fingernails into my hand?"

Lana nodded, which Marion noticed made the gold plates covering her chest shake in a most distracting manner. Apparently, exposing her body didn't bother Lana in the same way it did to her.

"Yeah, normally the chemical in Laura's body is only active in people she infects while she is physically touching them. But with me, something unique happened when she infected me to save my life and now I have all of the same gifts as Laura. And as a side effect, I ended up sharing my body with a copy of her mind."

Lana turned to Laura. "Did that cover the key points?"

"More succinctly than I think I could have done myself. Well, except for maybe one point. When you said our ending up sharing your body was a side effect, are you sure you didn't mean it is your curse?"

Lana stared at Laura for a moment. Then she walked over and pulled Laura into a tight embrace until Lana's metal chest plates were pressed tight up against the golden mesh of Laura's gown and their faces were only a couple of inches apart.

For the moment Marion was almost forgotten, as the two girls stared into each other's eyes.

Finally, Lana spoke. "Of course, you are not a curse. The things I said when we were with Whitney by the Sphinx, well, I was just shocked to find you in my head. But I have had a few minutes since then to think about things. If it wasn't for you, I would have died back in that Roman arena. I will always be grateful for that."

Lana reached up and ran her fingers through Laura's brilliantly red hair. "Did I ever properly say thank you?" And Lana leaned forward and planted a slow languid kiss on Laura's lips.

The kiss went on for seemingly endless seconds as Marion stood and watched in stunned silence. Of course, she had heard of girls doing things like this, but never expected to see it first hand. Trying to get her own rapidly fluttering heart back under control, she felt a change in subject was necessary. As soon as the girls' kiss broke for a moment, Marion spoke up.

"How can you be so casual about things after what happened to Whitney? I can't get the thoughts of his death out of my head," asked Marion as thoughts of Whitney and events back at the chateau once more started to fill her eyes with liquid.

Quickly Lana disentangled herself from Laura and turned towards Marion. Even through her tear-filled eyes, Marion couldn't help but notice the way Laura's now erect nipples tried to push through the golden links of her gown. Nor did she miss the silently mouthed 'Yes' or the wide grin that graced Laura's face once Lana's back was turned. Marion had never met and was unlikely to ever meet the 'real' Chloe Sullivan. And even if Chloe had walked up at this very moment, it was unlikely Marion would have made the connection that Chloe and this Laura had originally been the same person, due to Laura's outlandish appearance. But there was no mistaking the special 'Chloe' smile she got when some plan or scheme met with success. And to Laura the unexpected kiss from Lana had been a small, but important success. Trapped in Lana's body 24/7 with no contact with anyone but her except when a mind-link was active, Laura had been developing an undeniable infatuation for Lana. To the grinning Laura, the kiss had been a most positive sign that at least some of her feelings for Lana were mutual.

Lana stepped up and pulled Marion into tight hug. Once Marion's attention turned from Laura to Lana, she heard Lana begin to whisper into her ear. "I'm sorry, I thought you understood. Whitney is not dead. The whole fight with those Germans was about me maintaining physical contact with his body for the thirty seconds required to heal his wounds. When we left, he was perfectly fine, just playing possum. It wouldn't do to have the Germans realize he was okay. They might have tried to kill him again and I might not have been lucky enough to get the opportunity to heal him a second time."

Lana pulled her face back until she could look into Marion's black enshrouded eyes. "That's the real reason why I dug my nails into your hand; so I could give you the same gift, in case something bad happens to you, too. All of this," and Lana waved a hand to indicate Jaguar City, "is just a side benefit of our sharing blood."

Marion sagged against Lana a little as the shock of everything set in. She thought she had experience some truly unbelievable things during their quest of the lost Ark, but it had been nothing compared to meeting these kids. One girl was seventeen thousand years old and was currently stuck sharing another's body. The other girl could heal someone who had been hit by an entire clip of bullets from a machine gun. And she mustn't forget Clark who was apparently bullet-proof. And they had a time machine. And they could create places in their mind, like this city, which seemed completely real. It was all beginning to feel overwhelming.

As Marion stood there trying to catch her breathe, a young woman walked out onto the terrace and approached Laura. With a deep curtsy, she said, "Your Highness, Ambassador Mbout is waiting in the throne room."

Thank you, Ouiladuya," replied Laura with a curt nod. "I will be along shortly."

With another curtsy, the messenger girl retreated back into the palace.

Swinging her attention back to the other two women from the future, Laura said, "Come on you two. Let's go get this meeting with the ambassador from the Zingh Empire out of the way and then I will take you to see the fabled, ten thousand year old, sacred 'Golden Sun Disk of Lemuria' over at the temple. If you 'ooh and ahh' sufficiently, I might even tell you where it will be hidden when this civilization falls. I am sure it is a relic Hank would give his eyeteeth to recover."

As they walked back into the palace, Marion remembered one of the numerous stories her father regaled her with when she was growing up. Sometimes it was fortuitous that she had spent her whole life around archeologists.

"Laura, I thought the Zingh Empire was in Africa."

"It is. Oh, are you wondering what their ambassador is doing here in the heart of the Andes?" Laura smiled, once again showing off her blackened teeth. "Everyone thinks Columbus 'discovered' America. Or maybe the Vikings were the first. But long before them, the Phoenicians had a thriving trading operation with America. And even before them, there were the Zingh.

"Back in the days when Egypt was the true powerhouse of the eastern Mediterranean, the Zingh Empire controlled Western African along the Atlanta coast. In this era, the climate is much more temperate than in our own and the Zingh Empire is an agricultural paradise. With bountiful surpluses, they have had plenty for export, which led them to become a powerful trading empire. In their dealings with us, the primary trade goods are our jade and gold in exchange for their spices and silks."

Laura shook her head. "Unfortunately, the climate has been growing distinctly warmer over the past half century and it will soon start disrupting the food supply and trade throughout the world. All of the planet's civilizations are about to descend into one of the periodic 'dark ages' and in two hundred years when things once again turn brighter, different civilizations will move to the forefront.

"But enough about the depressing realities of the world, we are here today to have some fun!"

They were strolling down a long hall lined with giant carved statues; most of them were half human and half jaguar. Marion realized they had been here for at least thirty minutes and from what Laura was saying it sounded like she expected to be here for most of the day.

"I don't understand," began Marion. "How is it possible for us to be here for so long?"

Lana reached up and tapped the side of her head. "Time can move at a different rate in your head when I am touching you." For a moment Lana closed her eyes. "Back in the van, less than two minutes have passed since I drove my nails into your hand. I can control the responses of our bodies and even hold conversations with the Germans if necessary with them being none the wiser. Who knows how long this van ride will last, but we might as well enjoy the time here in Jaguar City, rather than sitting back there under the hateful stare of the Major."

Marion nodded her agreement; she had no desire to look upon the Major for one second more than was absolutely necessary. He may not have actually killed Whitney in the end, but that had been his sincere intention. And who knew what his ultimate intention was for them.

Since worrying about the Major was of no immediate benefit, Marion tried to make herself relax and enjoy this most remarkable of days.

-

From where Whitney was forced to kneel with his head twisted painfully to the side, he could clearly see the confrontation between Clark, the girl, and the German officer. He had no idea how Clark and this unknown girl had ended up out on the balcony. And at the moment that wasn't important. No, what did matter was Clark's statement that the whole chateau was about to tumble down the cliff into the river far below, a statement which been clearly backed up by the steadily increasing series of tremors shaking the building.

He didn't know Clark's plan for getting them out of this situation, but he never expected Clark to let the braids drop harmlessly to the floor. Helplessly, he watched as Clark started raising his hands in the universal sign of surrender. Then when Clark's hands were out in front of him, he abruptly stopped their upward motion and closed them into loose fists.

Even though the German officer probably wouldn't understand him, Clark said in a calm, clear voice as he gave his closed hands one brisk shake. "I would take your threats to my friends a lot more seriously, if the guns actually had bullets."

Then Clark opened his hands and a steady stream of bullets went tumbling down to bounce and ping off of the floor. All three German men in the room were so focused on this seemingly magical appearance of the bullets in Clark's hands that none of them immediately noticed the missing braids of Samson's hair which should have still been lying on the floor where the bullets were now harmlessly bouncing.

But Whitney and Indy couldn't help but notice the sudden, unexpected arrival of the braids looped around their torsos, which Clark had deposited there in 'speed mode' at the same time he was stripping the guns of their projectiles. No, there was no way they could miss the unmistakable feeling of strength and power as the mystical energies of the braids worked their magic on their bodies. Whitney had never imagined he could feel better and more alive than when Lana turned on the 'bots in his body, but he had been wrong. The intoxicating power which surged through his body was unbelievable. He felt like could lift mountains. Was this the way Clark felt all of the time? He had never dreamed this feeling of strength would be so good.

Whitney surged to his feet and grabbed the soldier who had been holding him. With what felt like less effort than it normally took to throw a ten yard screen pass to his tight end, Whitney threw the man sixty feet to the far side of the ballroom.

Like Whitney, Indy also sprang up and quickly subdued his guard. Abruptly, the German officer realized the tables were turned and his meager pistol would hardly slow these three enhanced men.

But almost instantly, before Whitney and Indy had fully come to grips with the sudden change in their situation, another even more powerful tremor ripped through the chateau. Immediately they all heard the balcony rip away and start its long descent to the river below. And this tremor didn't stop. A split second later, the ballroom tore loose from the rest of the building and started tilting over the edge to follow the balcony down.

A spike of fear passed through Whitney as the roof of the ballroom started to collapse, blocking the path to the rest of the building. Without Lana here, this time if he died, it would most definitely be permanent.

Abruptly, the room tilted over sharply and they were all knocked from their feet.

"Everyone, out through the balcony doors," shouted Clark over the noise of shattering wood and stones.

'Is Clark insane,' thought Whitney. 'The balcony is gone and there is nothing out those doors but a long, long freefall to the river below.'

As Whitney bounced around the tumbling room, he watched Clark toss first the girl and then Indy out through the fluttering drapery. As Clark started scrambling over to Whitney, the electrical cables to the room finally tore loose and the room was plunged into darkness.

Suddenly, Clark was beside Whitney and shouting in his ear to be heard. "Whitney, time to go."

"Go where, Clark? We won't survive the fall."

"Trust me," answered Clark, as he grabbed Whitney and together they tumbled out through the missing balcony door.

As they fell clear of the room, Whitney's body rotated around until he was looking back up. In the moonlight he saw the ballroom finally rip completely away and start its own descent down to the river only fifteen feet behind them. Shit.

-

Clark dropped to the ground next to the 'frozen in-place' trio of Whitney, Indy, and Gretchen. As he reverted to 'normal' speed, he felt more exhausted than he could ever remember. Never had he tried to hold himself so far up into the 'accelerated-time' zone for so long. From the moment he and Whitney tumbled clear of the ballroom, less than a quarter of a second had passed in the 'real' world, but from his personal perspective it had felt like more the twenty-four hours, twenty-four hours of non-stop activity. And the longer he stayed in 'speed-mode', the hard it was to maintain. The last several 'virtual' hours had really started to strain his body and his mind, but finally he was finished. He had rescued all one hundred twenty seven people he could find in the chateau and its lower levels who were still alive. It had meant burning countless new tunnels through the cliff to reach some of the people, which would only accelerate the cliff's ultimate collapse. But it didn't matter now, and he was finally fully convinced Lana and Marion had been removed from the chateau before he had initiated his binge of destruction. At least with all of his flights to ferry people clear, he had greatly improved his flying skills.

To keep them clear of the destruction and the surviving Germans, Clark had deposited Whitney and the others on the next ridge over from where the chateau stood. He had positioned them and himself so they would have a clear view of the chateau's final moments. Now, as he decelerated back to normal time, he watched the balcony hit the river while the ballroom still had one hundred feet to fall. With his hearing also returned to normal, he could suddenly hear the roaring of the cliff's collapse. The rest of the chateau didn't follow the ballroom over the edge, but rather rode majestically down in an upright position with the rest of the underlying hill for the first seventy-five feet. Finally, the building broke apart and was just part of the pile of rubble which flowed into the river and blocked almost half of its width.

"Wow," was all Whitney could exclaim, as he watched the devastation and realized they had somehow been magically transported from freefall to this position of safety.

The others just nodded in stunned silence for the fifteen seconds it took for the noise and the rumbling to stop.

It was Clark who ended up breaking the silence first. "I hope this finally teaches the stupid Nazis to stop looking for mystical relics; they always will lose in the end."

Indy shook his head. "Some people never learn." Then he looked over to Clark. "How did we end up over here?"

Clark climbed to his feet and reached down to assist Gretchen. "More wonders of Vulcan technology. They have a device call a 'Transporter', which can instantly move things from one place to another. Their version has a range of thousands of miles, but the ones we have been able to build so far only have a range of a little over a mile. I have a transmitter that allowed device to 'lock on' to me and transport me clear. Then I used it to transport everyone who was in freefall here and everyone else in the chateau to a clearing a quarter of a mile in the other direction from here."

Clark then pointed to the large mound of clothes on the ground behind them. "The transporter has the ability to tell the difference between living tissue and inanimate objects, so when I sent the people over there, I sent all of their clothes over here. I figured if they are all naked it would slow any pursuit. Plus, I think most of us could use a change of clothes before we head back into the city."

Gretchen stared at the three men and had to agree. She didn't understand this talk about 'Vulcans' and 'Transporters', but clearly the three men all needed new clothes. Clark was once again stripped to the waist and by now his pants were in tatters. The older of the two men with Clark was wearing just an ill-fitting jacket from an army private. The other, younger man was drenched in dried blood. She had clearly seen it was blood when they had been in the well-lit ballroom. Here, under only moonlight, the stains could be from almost any dark material.

The three men all moved over to the large pile of clothes and started sorting through them to find the best-fitting, least damaged items they could find. As they worked, Whitney looked over at Clark.

"What's the next step in locating the girls?"

Clark had had lots of time to think about this while he had been rescuing all of the occupants of the chateau. Unfortunately, he hadn't come up with any brilliant solutions. He had no idea where to begin looking.

"Until someone comes up with a better idea, I think we should head back to the Olympic Village. If we are in amongst all of the athletes, the ones holding the girls are less likely to try another abduction. Hank should get a hold of his hotel and have them forward any messages to our house in the village. Then I think we will just have to wait for them to contact us."

No one else had any better suggestions. As the men were finishing changing, Whitney inquired how they would get back home to the Olympic Village.

"One of the Nazis' trucks is parked about a mile from here along the road to the chateau. If anyone knows how to hotwire a German military truck, then I think we have wheels."

Indy looked up with just a hint of a grin. "I think I have a little working knowledge in that area."

End of Chapter 11

Author's Notes:

I hope everyone enjoyed my variation of how Clark first develops his flying abilities. I thought it would be interesting if he could only fly in 'speed mode' where no one could see him and therefore not necessarily believe he can actually fly.

What is everyone's opinion about the girls' visit to Jaguar City? Would you like to see more, or should I just move on?

Athenais – Thanks for the catch on Apollo vs Ares, I have fixed the one spot I found in chapter 10.

BeyondLSD – The stuff we talked about – I needed to do these couple of scenes first to set things up and, as usual, I am always wordier than I expect. Plus what I have in mind fits better as the beginning of the next chapter rather than the end of this one. Hopefully, you can be patient for a little longer and I will try to make it worth the wait!

Neo.logic – We will have to wait and see about making Lex's 'bots permanently active. With all of his wealth and power, I sort of like leaving him dependent on the charity of the girls in this area.

Rebel Goddess – I hope you liked the bit with the girls. I hope my description of their faces and costumes was clear. I have this strong mental image of how they would look all dressed up as part of some ancient bronze-age society and it is so cool.

To everyone else who sent a review – Thanks, they are always appreciated!

Until next time,

Duane


	12. Biological Families Chapter 12

Biological Families

Author: duane at duaneaakre dot com

Disclaimer: As always I own nothing. Well I own a house, two cars, a pair of jetskis, and a lot of other junk, but none of these characters.

Story Rating: R The story may drift into the HBO range rather than stay in the WB range, so to be on the safe side, I am rating this R.

Chapter 12

Clark and Whitney stepped out of the dark passage of the train's interior corridor and into the brilliantly lit Dresden train station. Like the station back in Berlin, this one too had a high glass ceiling to provide protection from the weather while still allowing the space to be filled with sunlight on a beautiful summer day like today. However there were obvious differences in the architectural styles of the two stations which they probably would have noticed even without the English language guidebook, 'Dresden - The Baroque Capital of Northern Europe' that Whitney had picked up before they had set out from the Olympic Village.

Barely twelve hours had passed since they had returned to the village following the events at the chateau. It was three-thirty in the afternoon as they exited the station with Whitney carrying a newly purchased Dresden street map and Clark carrying one of the copies of the letter Lana had left for them. They had spent the morning attending the usual practice session for the track team while Indy had waited by the phone back at their communal house in the village. When they returned for lunch, Indy still hadn't received any calls regarding ransom terms for the return of Marion and Lana. Since most of the track team was being given the afternoon off for sight-seeing, they decided this was the right time for them to follow through on the suggestion in Lana's message.

The matching letters Whitney and Clark had both discovered under their pillows in their rooms when they returned the night before had been quite a surprise; obviously some of Chloe's philosophy of always having a backup plan in place had rubbed off on Lana. Although, annoyingly, some of Chloe's love for games and secrets seemed to have been passed along, as well. The message had been very terse, merely stating that if they should become separated, she had met someone who might be able to help. The letter had then given detailed instructions on how to reach one 'Aubrey Steenbergen' at 7920 Justinenstrasse, Dresden, Germany. But the letter had not given any details on who this person was or how they could help. And why hadn't Lana included a phone number for this 'Aubrey'? Certainly a phone call would have been a lot faster than a one hundred mile train ride, not that train service here in nineteen-thirties Germany wasn't the model of speed and efficiency.

The express train had taken only one hour and forty minutes for the trip south from Berlin to Dresden, which was located in the southeast corner of Germany near the border with Czechoslovakia. According to Whitney's guidebook, Dresden was the fourth largest city in Germany with a population in 1930 of just over six hundred thousand.

While Whitney had been locating the street map, Clark had placed a call to Indy back at the village. Clark had been prepared to turn around and head straight back, in 'speed-mode' if necessary, if Indy had received any word, but so far no luck. Perhaps the Nazis were postponing contacting him in an attempt to frazzle his nerves.

As they stepped out of the train station located on the western edge of the main central plaza of Dresden, they could easily see the two most prominent landmarks described in the guidebook: the Frauenkirche Cathedral with its three hundred foot tall dome, and the Sachsen Palace which had served as the Parliament Building when Dresden had been the capital of the Saxony Kingdom before the unification of Germany in the late eighteen hundreds. They also easily found the sight they were really looking for, a bright yellow street car with 'Route 17' prominently displayed in red. It was quickly becoming apparent the street map wouldn't be necessary to find their destination, but trying to take a page from Lana, they felt it was wise to get the 'lay of the land' in case things went wrong and they were separated again.

The instructions had said they would need to ride the number 17 for three miles and then transfer to the number 32 for two miles before a final walk of three blocks to reach the indicated address. But it wasn't until they looked at the map that it became apparent the address fronted right on the Elbe River.

As they walked across the plaza to the first streetcar, Whitney, who had been moving with such an exaggerated bounce to his step it looked like he was overdosing on Talon caffeine, turned to Clark and asked. "How can you handle it?"

"Handle what?"

"The feeling of strength and power. I have this almost overwhelming urge to run over there and see how far I can toss that truck."

Clark glanced over where Whitney had indicated with a nod of his head. A large German military truck was parked over at the side of the plaza next to a building which had a steady stream of men in uniform entering and leaving. He was still amazed with the amount of military activity that was on public display everywhere they went. Back home in Kansas you almost never saw any military vehicles except parked by the National Guard Armory or anyone in uniform except the lone Marine recruiter in the small office on Main Street. Had it been different in the States back in the thirties or was all of the military presence they had seen so far just a European thing?

"Well, control yourself. We don't want to attract any attention. For all we know, our descriptions could already be circulating through every Gestapo office in the country."

"Yeah, but how do you handle the feelings?"

Clark thought about it for a minute as they boarded the streetcar. "I don't know. I have always had my abilities so I guess I am just used to the feelings. You have only had the Samson hair for a few hours. Hopefully, it will get easier to handle with time." But even as he spoke he knew the words weren't entirely true. No, he suspected his own urges to fly must be almost as powerful as Whitney's sudden urges to use his new-found strength. When they had first discussed coming down here to Dresden, he had seriously considered just grabbing Whitney and flying down.

"But don't you just want to let loose and use your gifts sometimes?"

Quelling his own thoughts about flying, Clark answered, "Whitney, living in Smallville, there are plenty of opportunities to use my powers what with all of the meteor freaks around. You just have to learn to be discrete so no one ever sees you."

Whitney slowly nodded his head. He hadn't thought that far ahead. What if they brought the braids back to Smallville with them? Then he could have this feeling of power forever. And he could help Clark to protect the others. It wasn't until then he remembered he had to leave for Basic almost as soon as they returned. Would he be able to take one of the braids with him when he left for the Marines? Would taking one along be 'right'?

They rode along for the next couple of minutes in silence. Whitney continued to think about a future where he kept one of the Samson braids. Clark was thinking about a conviction that had been slowly growing in his mind during the train ride down here. He decided he needed to discuss his thoughts with Whitney. If he was wrong, no harm would be done. But if he was right, then the upcoming meeting would have to be handled just right to not risk messing up the timeline.

"Whitney?"

"Hmm?" responded Whitney absentmindedly.

"Whitney," started Clark again with a little sharper tone to his whisper. He needed to get Whitney's attention without attracting that of any of the other passengers. This wasn't ancient Rome, it was a definite possibility some of the others present in this streetcar could understand English.

Whitney's eyes slowly turned from the seemingly endless row of government-looking buildings, many built in the early seventeen hundreds when Dresden had been the capital of Poland as well as Saxony.

"I think this 'Aubrey Steenbergen' is Chloe," stated Clark, once he was sure he had Whitney's attention.

"Chloe?"

"Yeah, Chloe. Who else could Lana have gotten to know and trust in the couple of days we have been here? Particularly someone way down here in Dresden. But Chloe could have told her sometime during the week between our return from Rome and our departure for here, all of the dates and places where she could be found, in case of a situation just like this."

"What are you talking about? Chloe is back in Smallville. That's the whole reason we are back here."

Clark thought Lana had explained all of this to Whitney before, but obviously it hadn't sunk in. But then the whole situation was getting so unbelievable and convoluted, he really couldn't blame him. Particularly since Whitney hadn't been along on the adventure to Rome.

Dropping his voice even further, Clark started explaining. "Whitney, remember how we were stranded back in ancient Rome?"

Whitney nodded.

"We had no way of opening a portal home from that end as the equipment there had been destroyed. The only way back was for someone to open one from the future. But in the future, only the 'bad' guys knew about the time machine and they certainly weren't going to open one for us. Chloe was the only one to come up with a viable solution. Since she could live forever, she would just live through the past two thousand years a second time so she would be there to open the portal for the rest of us.

"After we got back to our own times, Chloe explained some of the intervening events to me, particularly how during her second time through the past two thousand year, she was actually the one who caused the time machine to be built, not the Professor who took all of the credit. Doing it herself was her way of ensuring it would be built and the time loop would be closed and the rest of us would be retrieved from the past. And, so, in one of those weird, time paradox sort of things, it was the time loop which caused the time machine to be developed, as it couldn't have been developed on a simple shoe-string budget like the 'build it in the garage' type of project the Professor was running. No, she spent over a hundred years ensuring several whole new branches of Physics were developed to have the necessary knowledge in place.

Clark paused for a moment to make sure the logic of his theory was clear in his own head. "Remember how so many of the greatest scientists in the early part of the twentieth century seemed to be German? I think Chloe is here in Germany recruiting scientists and arranging to get them out of Europe before the war."

Whitney thought about what Clark said and he guessed it did make sense. But since he had only become aware of Chloe's true nature after the encounter with the tornado and since he had not talked to her since then, it was still a little hard to comprehend that she was thousands of years old. Oh, he had twice experienced the miraculous healing powers Lana had received from Chloe and he had even met Laura in that virtual world by the Sphinx, but living for thousands of years was still almost impossible to believe.

And equally hard to picture was Chloe as some shadowy figure who had been manipulating civilizations down through history. He still had a hard time thinking of her as anything but the overzealous, somewhat nerdy girl who ran the school paper. Chloe being the driving force behind the development of the time machine still boggled his mind.

Not coming up with any real flaw in Clark's logic, Whitney asked "Do you think Lana has been in contact with her? If she has, I would have thought Chloe would have joined us up in Berlin by now."

Clark shook his head. "I don't think Lana has been in contact with her. I think she just left the information in case of an emergency. You need to understand how careful we must be to not screw up the time loop. If we tell Chloe what is going to happen to her sixty years in the future, she wouldn't go down into the storm cellar and touch Lex. If she doesn't touch him and get hurt, then she would have come back here with us to save Lex. But she did get hurt, so we have to make sure everything ends up the way it is supposed to."

Clark's inability to explain the situation to his own satisfaction really frustrated him. It probably meant the whole time loop concept wasn't that clear in his own mind either. Finally, he just jumped straight to the conclusion he was trying to make. "Anyway, the important thing is that it is very dangerous for a person to know too much about what is going to happen in their future. We need to get her help without explaining anymore about what caused this situation in the future then is absolutely necessary."

Whitney nodded. Not having been involved since the very beginning of all the events surrounding the time machine left him at somewhat of a disadvantage, but he had seen enough old sci-fi movies about time travel to get the intent of what Clark was trying to say.

After Clark's potential revelation about Chloe, they descended back into silence; each running through in their own mind how this upcoming meeting might play out. In only a couple more minutes they arrived at the transfer location and with less than a five minute wait, they were moving forward once more along Route 32. This route quickly left all of the governmental-looking buildings behind and moved into a residential area, a very upscale residential area. Soon the track the streetcar was following curved over onto a street which ran parallel to the river. After the indicated two miles, they reached a streetcar stop after which the track turned away from the river to begin its loop back towards the center of town.

Clark and Whitney exited the trolley and started walking down the street which continued to follow the waterfront. As they went, they watched the numbers on the curbs in front of the large houses steadily climb.

Finally, after about five minutes of walking they reached their destination, a large gray stone house with numerous windows and a dark blue metal roof. Many of the windows had semi-circular transom windows above the main rectangular sheets of glass. Similarly, the several balconies visible from the street side of the house were enclosed in matching semi-circular Roman arches. According to what they had read in the guidebook, this unifying theme of the semi-circle was a classic example of the baroque style common in Dresden in the early seventeen hundreds. While a two-hundred year old house sounded positively ancient by twenty-first century American standards, in Germany this was not uncommon and this house had obviously been well maintained down through the years.

As they walked in through the open front gate and up to the main entrance, Clark continued to study the house and grounds, trying to see if there were any clues that this was where Chloe currently lived. The house was nice, but nothing specifically set it apart from any of its neighbors. Certainly, it was not remotely on the scale of Chloe's palace back in ancient Rome, or even of Lex's castle back in Smallville. However it wasn't extremely modest like the house Chloe shared with Gabe back in Smallville either. No, it definitely proclaimed its owners were wealthy, but without the 'hey, look at me, I'm rich' brashness of Lex's place. If its essence was distilled down to a single concept, it was that the owners were 'old' money.

Clark's musings had kept him occupied until they reached the massive double-doors with the large brass knocker shaped like a lion's head. Clark remembered how the lion seemed to figure into many of Chloe's stories of her ancient past, but this could easily be just a coincidence. With a small flutter in his stomach, Clark lifted the knocker and gave it several solid bangs. As he waited for a response, he tried to image what it would feel like to see Chloe suddenly restored to full health and vigor. It had been so scary when he had last seen her with her body wracked with tremors and her green silk evening gown covered in the muck of the destroyed root cellar.

After a seemingly eternal wait that actually wasn't more than twenty seconds, they heard the door being unlatched from the inside. Half expecting to find Chloe on the other side of the door, Clark was disappointed to see an elegantly attired butler instead.

"Guter Nachmittag, meine Herren. Wie kann ich Ihnen helfen?" asked the middle-aged man as he took in the two tall, youthful strangers standing at the threshold.

"Ah," began Clark at a sudden loss for words. "I hope you speak English. We would like to speak to Aubrey Steenbergen."

The butler smoothly shifted to English with a distinctive British accent. "Do you have an appointment?"

"No," answered Clark with a surge of relief at being able to communicate. Before they had left the Olympic Village, he had toyed with bringing Gretchen along to translate. But finally he had decided not to, in case this really was Chloe and they ended up needing to discuss things best spoken of without witnesses. "We didn't have the telephone number and decided to just take a chance she would be in."

"Your names?"

"We are some really old friends and we were kind of hoping to make this a surprise."

Edwin looked over the two men again and tried to imagine where Frau Steenbergen could have met them. He had been with her for almost ten years since she had first hired him during a visit to London and he was certain they had never been to this house before. With their American accents, it must have been on one of her trips to the States on business with her optical company. But her last trip over had been almost five years earlier and these men would have been only boys at the time. Still, they didn't look particularly dangerous and Frau Steenbergen was always stressing the importance of good relations with her overseas customers.

Edwin finally nodded, "If you will follow me."

Clark and Whitney entered a large foyer that shouted 'money' and 'class'. Clark expected they would be told to wait there while the butler went to fetch the woman, but instead he led them down a wide hallway to the back of the main floor. At the last door on the left side, the butler opened it and gestured for them to precede him.

They found themselves in a large living room with a wall of windows overlooking the river. As they paused to take in the room, the butler spoke up once more.

"If you will kindly wait, I will inform Frau Steenbergen." Then Edwin pulled the doors to the hallway back shut before heading upstairs to her private study to announce the guests.

The room Clark and Whitney found themselves in was large, at least thirty by forty feet. It had three distinct seating areas each of which was designed to comfortably handle eight to ten people. The entire room was paneled in a rich, dark wood that just made you want to relax. After the wall of windows, the room's next most prominent feature was the large fireplace on the opposite wall. This being the middle of the summer, it was unlit, but Clark's attention was still drawn to it. Or rather to the row of framed photos aligned on the mantelpiece. Excitedly, he moved over to give them a closer inspection; they might provide the answer to whether Aubrey Steenbergen was really their Chloe.

As soon as he looked, he had his answer. The hair was different, but there was no mistaking that smile.

"Whitney, come take a look at these. It is definitely her."

But then taking a closer look at the other people in the photos, Clark couldn't help but flinch a little inside. Most of the photos had been taken at a lakeside or oceanside resort. And they were most definitely photos of a very happy family. In some of them, Chloe was wearing a very old-fashioned swimming suit and playing at the water's edge with two small children. In others a well-built man, who looked about forty, was playing with the children. One photo was a standard posed family shot with Chloe and the man standing behind the two children.

But the hardest one for Clark was an extreme close-up of Chloe with the two children, a boy and girl of about five or six. The children's faces were pressed tight up against each side of Chloe's and she had the happiest expression on her face he could ever remember seeing.

Clark had never really asked her about the two thousand years she had spent waiting to return to their present. In his head he had had this now obviously naive image of her just patiently waiting that whole time for him. But he suddenly realized how unreasonable that was. She was a real person and would have led a real life during that impossibly long time. He just never imagined during the train ride down here that they might find her happily married. How would she feel when he and Whitney just showed up out of the blue? How awkward was this going to be?

Clark continued to stare at the photo of Chloe with the two children. God, she looked so happy as a mother. Would they have children someday in the future? Could they even have children? Seeing the expression on Chloe's face, Clark suddenly wished that they would.

-

Aubrey Steenbergen set down her pen and pushed her chair back from her desk. Everything was finally ready for the big trade show coming up in three weeks. The first shipment of the new compact single-lens-reflex cameras they had been secretly developing was complete. A sufficient stock of the new 35 mm format film was available to meet the demand for at least the next three months. Now it was simply a matter of getting the cameras out in front of the public. She was certain the new pocket-size format would take the market by storm. And hopefully, it would take some of the wind out of the sails of her competitors over at 'Zeiss-Ikon'. Ever since their merger four years earlier, when they had surpassed her own 'Ihagee Kamerawerk Steenbergen & Co.' in combined sales, they had been rubbing her face in it at every trade union meeting. But now, with the new camera line, they might just find the tables turned.

Leaning back in her chair, she let her eyes drift to the painting on the far wall. A painting she had commissioned almost exactly one hundred years earlier. It showed the ribbon cutting ceremony at the first commercial railroad in Germany. That event had occurred on April 17th, 1837 and inaugurated train service for Leipzig to Althen, a total distance of nine kilometers. It would be another two years before the line would be extended all of the way here to Dresden, but as she rode the slow, noise, stinky train that first day, she knew the age of technology had finally returned.

She had made several additional fortunes in the early decades of the railroad era before its true impact on modern society was felt. Germany had long been separated into a number of petty kingdoms, duchies, and republics. However the coming of the railroad and its ability to move both people and goods quickly and in large quantities began to change everything. When entire independent states could be crossed in less than an hour, it became a major stumbling block to progress to have such frequent stops for passport checks and border tariffs. Many reasons were given for the unification of Germany in the late eighteen hundreds, but the true driving force had been the railway system.

However one of the first acts of the unified government had been the nationalization of the railway companies. Oh, she had gotten a fair price when her various railway ventures had been stripped from her, but it had ended a very lucrative cash cow.

Now, with the Nazis in power, they were trying to do the same thing with every industry in the country, even such unlikely targets as the camera industry. It had taken years of hard work to build Dresden into the camera capital of not just Germany, but the whole world. And now they wanted to nationalize all of them and place them under the jurisdiction of some bureaucrat. Perhaps it had been the right thing to do with the railroads to ensure consistent track widths and rolling stock throughout the country. But with other industries, like cameras, it seemed likely to just stifle creativity and hurt them in the global market. And the global nature of the market was important to modern day success. It certainly had saved her company several times. Back in the twenties when Germany was staggering under hyper-inflation, the market for cameras had been strong in America. The steady flow of dollars had helped her weather a time when many companies dealing solely in deutschemarks had gone under. And now in the thirties while the American camera market was suffering the ravages of on-going depression, the German market had picked back up with the new prosperity of Hitler. To thrive in the technology age, a global market was essential. But if the Nazi plan for the camera industry played out as she expected, the global market would end up dominated by one of her American competitors like Kodak or Polaroid.

Audrey slowly shook her head. She had made her argument against nationalization at numerous trade union meetings between the companies and the government, but to no avail. She had even had several conversations about it with Johan, but again without success. Of course, he was the most hardcore Nazi around and loyally supported every suggestion Hitler and his cronies up in Berlin made no matter how stupid or short-sighted.

She sighed. She was quickly approaching her normal self-imposed limit of fifteen years in any one place and persona. Perhaps it was time to work harder towards preparing her next life. She would miss Dresden, it had been more or less her focal point for the past few hundred years much like Rome had been the city she had orbited around two thousand years earlier. Perhaps it was time for a bigger change than her normal loop of Dresden - Warsaw - London - Dresden. Maybe America or the Pacific, hmm, how was New Zealand this decade?

As she sat there pondering the logistics of a relocation, this time with the complication of two small children, she heard a sharp double-rap at the study door. Recognizing the cadence as belonging to Edwin rather than one of the maids, she called out in German, "It's open, Edwin, come in."

After stepping through and pulling the door closed behind him, Edwin came immediately to the point. "Madam, there are two young men downstairs requesting an appointment. They refused to give their names, saying they wanted to surprise you. They are Americans."

In the moment before his words fully sank in, Aubrey sat there wondering if it would be possible to bring Edwin along when she relocated. He was definitely one of the best butlers she had had in what seemed like centuries.

"American?" she answered, suddenly a little intrigued. She wasn't expecting any of her American distributors until after the trade show. "Can you describe them?"

"One blonde, one brunette. Very tall, they both are at least one ninety five centimeters and very fit. Young, I would guess they are around seventeen, give or take a year. Reasonably fashionable Windsor double-breasted suits, but not custom-tailored."

Hmm, the descriptions didn't ring any bells with Aubrey. And the descriptions definitely didn't fit any of her American marketing agents. But there were a lot more Americans in town this summer with the Olympics starting this weekend.

Oh well, she did have an extra hour before she needed to see to the children's dinner and then start preparing for this evening's excursion to the Semper for the inaugural performance of **Verdi's _La Traviata_. **This opera seemed like an unusually light-hearted choice and she had serious doubts its run would be very long before they would be forced to pull it in favor of something by Wagner.

"Thank you, Edwin. I will be down directly. Please arrange to have tea served in about twenty minutes."

"Very good, madam," answered Edwin before retreating from the study.

Aubrey took a moment to put away the documents she had been working on and to straighten her desk. Once she was finished, she stood up and walked from the room. As she descended the staircase, she couldn't help but wonder who the strangers were and what they wanted from her.

When she reached the doors to the living room, she quietly opened them and found the two men standing with their backs to her as they studied the photos on the mantel.

"Those photographs were taken with one of our new 35mm cameras. The camera is very compact and will easily fit into a jacket pocket; yet you can clearly see the excellent quality of the resulting pictures."

She spoke with a very strong British accent, but Clark instantly recognized that voice anyway. Momentarily forgetting the details of her present life and family, a large grin broke out on Clark's face as he turned to look at her. Somehow her hairstyle, clothing, posture, and attitude conspired to make her look like a youthful thirty rather than her true perpetual sixteen.

"Chlo . . ." was all Clark got out when he realized there was no recognition of him in her eyes. None. Zero. Nada.

Clark stood there frozen in shock. Just like he had never expected to find her happily married, he had never imagined this would be the original Chloe. Of course, she wouldn't recognize him; Smallville was still more than sixty years into her future. He had been certain Lana would have left them the address to the Chloe who was reliving the past two thousand years for the second time and who would remember all the adventures they had shared in ancient Rome and before that in the pre-portal Smallville. But the 'Chloe' he thought of as his must be in some distant part of the globe, if Lana thought this original 'Chloe' was their best choice in an emergency.

But the woman standing in front of him had never heard of him or Whitney or Lana or even 'Chloe Sullivan'. And any mention of Chloe or Smallville or even his and Whitney's names could alter the course of future events. With her 'bot enhanced memory, any comment he made would be remembered.

Clark actually cranked his body up into 'speed mode' while he stood there to give himself some extra time to think about the whole situation and how to get her help without giving away too much information about the future.

-

Whitney was only half a step slower in turning to greet Chloe than Clark. He was just starting to speak when Clark threw up his hand in a gesture that made him halt.

Clark turned his head towards Whitney and said as quietly as he could, "It's not her. It's the original one. Don't say anything, just follow my lead."

Aubrey watched the strange interplay between these two young men. The dark haired one had turned towards her first with an expression of excitement and delight on his face. Then he had started to say something and abruptly froze. When the blonde haired youth had turned and started to speak the first one stopped him and then quietly made the strangest remark. Oh, her hearing was only slightly better than normal, but she had long since mastered the art of lip-reading.

What the hell did he mean, she was the original one? Who else were they expecting? Something very strange was going on here. Normally, she would have been merely intrigued, but the children were in the house. She had to be ready to act at a moment's notice, if necessary. In the meantime, she had best take charge of the situation.

"Excuse me, but Edwin said we knew each other, but that is obviously not true. Who are you? What do you want with me?"

Clark took a deep breathe. He needed to find the right thing to say quickly, as he could read the alarm in her face. It wouldn't take much for Chloe to bolt from the room and call for help. No, he had to stop thinking of her as Chloe, now she was 'Aubrey'. Chloe wouldn't exist for another sixty years.

"Ah, Frau Steenbergen, this is suddenly a lot more complicated than I had anticipated. For the moment, it is best if you refer to me as C.K. and my friend as W. Perhaps it would be best if we all sat down. I am afraid what I have to tell you is quite shocking."

Clark gestured for Whitney to precede him over to the nearest couch. Whitney did as instructed, but he still had a very confused look on his face.

Clark then followed suit by taking a seat next to Whitney while trying to maintain the least threatening posture possible.

Aubrey's natural curiosity was stronger than her sense of fear. She selected the armchair with the clearest path to the door and then gracefully slid into it.

"We need your help," began Clark. "A couple of friends of ours are missing and we hoped you could use your resources to help us locate them."

Aubrey slowly shook her head. "I run a camera factory. I don't have any 'resources' to locate missing individuals."

Clark took a deep breathe. He didn't see any way to secure her help without revealing at least a part of the truth. "This is going to sound insane, but we are travelers from the distant future. One of the missing women will one day be your best friend."

Aubrey wondered what game they were trying to play on her. Even back in her original civilization, which was so far advanced over this one of 1936, time travel had been impossible.

"You're kidding, right?"

"No, I'm afraid not. And I have knowledge about you that I think you will find convincing."

Aubrey's face erupted into a big grin. "Okay, I'll bite. What possible information could you have about me that would convince me you are really time travelers?"

"I know you are seventeen thousand two hundred and some odd years old."

The grin on her face felt frozen for an instant. How could he possibly know her true age? Certainly with a great deal of effort someone could uncover her past life, possibly even her last couple of lives. But she hadn't told anyone her true age in almost five hundred years and that information was most definitely not written down anywhere.

Before she had time to consider any options, Clark continued.

"I visited the Flavian palace in Rome in the spring of 37 A.D. I know you were in Egypt at the time, but I did meet Rogerus. And I am sorry to say, I was accidentally responsible for the destruction of the stain glass windows in the Solarium. You know the ones with the hunting scene and your face on the Sphinx. I do hope you were able to have the windows restored."

She hadn't thought about Rogerus or those windows in years. Quickly she checked her memories of those distant times. She had been in Egypt at the time the man stated. And she had received a letter from Rogerus several months later. The windows had been destroyed and it was about the same time as the mysterious destruction of the arena and the Praetorian Camp.

Time travel had to be impossible, didn't it? All the theories she had seen said the potentials for disruptive paradoxes made the concept of time travel impossible. But all of the facts the man had rattled off had been correct. How else could he know those kinds of details about a time almost two thousand years in the past?

Before she had time to ponder things further, the twins came racing into the room.

"Mamma, Mamma," they yelled after discovering she was done with her work for the day and therefore play-hour was finally here.

It wasn't until they had almost reached her that they noticed the strange men in the room. As children so often can, they instantly sensed the tension in the room. And tension was something they almost never felt from their mother. No, not with THEIR mother. Some of their playmates' mothers would occasionally get mad or angry or cry or scream, but never their mother. She was always calm, collected, in control. So, if their mother was tense, they were immediately a little scared.

Moving at a speed which almost made Clark proud, they quickly vanished behind Aubrey's chair until only a small face peaked out on each side with a hand extended forward to maintain physical contact with their mother.

Aubrey looked over at the two strangers for a moment. They both looked so young and earnest. Suddenly she had a good feeling about them. Oh, she still wasn't convinced she believed their story, but she simply 'knew' they didn't pose any danger to her or the children. Perhaps the children could help put everyone at their ease. And give her a little more time to think.

"Patrick, Maddie," began Aubrey in her best mother's voice. "I have some new friends I would like you to meet. They are American."

"Amerikanisch?" said Patrick excitedly. Then momentarily forgetting he was supposed to be afraid, the boy stepped out from behind the chair to where he could get a better view.

"Speak English, Patrick, like we practice."

"Yes, Mamma, ah, Mother," responded the boy, before he turned back to the men and blurted out, "Have you ever fought Injuns?"

Aubrey laughed. "You know cowboys no longer fight Indians that is just in the cinema. And where are your manners? You haven't even been introduced yet."

Almost unnoticed, the little girl had also stepped out from behind her side of the chair. "My name is Maddalyn."

"So it is, little girl. Now come here." And Aubrey pulled the children around in front of her chair until they stood side-by-side facing the men. Then she leaned forward between them, unknowingly mimicking the pose from the photo on the mantel. She happened to be looking at 'C.K.' at the time and couldn't help but notice the expression on his face. Why, when she leaned forward, did it trigger such a look of longing? One more question for her to ponder. Hopefully as the information, facial expressions, and body language accumulated, her 'bot system would start recognizing some patterns and make some useful extrapolations.

"Patrick, Maddie, this is C.K. and W."

Whitney could understand Clark's desire not to give away their names. But having himself referred to as W. was totally lame. C.K. had an interesting ring, but W. or W.F. wasn't quite the same. And if you drawled it out, it started sounding too much like George 'Dubya' Bush. Not that being associated with Bush was necessarily a bad thing; the Fordmans had always been Republicans. But still, being referred to as W. was lame.

"Actually," Whitney said, "The name is Will."

Aubrey looked at him with a little smile. "Okay, Will and C.K. These are my children, Patrick and Maddalyn."

Then she turned back to the children. "And when do you turn six?"

Immediately they both shouted back, "In nine days!"

Whitney grinned. "Well, in case we don't see you on your big day, Happy Birthday."

The twins grinned back at him, feeling steadily more at ease.

Clark glanced over at Whitney, grateful he was taking the lead with the children. But then since Whitney's little sister, Sara, was seven, he had a lot more practice dealing with young kids than Clark. Plus, it wasn't Whitney's girlfriend who was sitting across from them. Clark had to fight a strong urge to go over there and give her a hug. God, how he had missed Chloe since they had been back here in Nazi Germany.

Aubrey wanted to continue the now interrupted conversation with these two men, but it wasn't something appropriate in front of the children. If they overheard something interesting, they might innocently pass it along to some inappropriate party.

"It is such a beautiful afternoon, why don't we move out onto the terrace? And Patrick and Maddie, maybe you could show Will and C.K. what you have been learning in tumbling class."

With shouts of 'Me, first! Me, first!' the twins raced over to the door leading out onto the patio.

Rising to her feet, Aubrey took a step forward and then gestured towards the open door. As Clark and Whitney stood, Aubrey's hand came close to touching Whitney's arm. Abruptly, Clark grabbed her hand and jerked it back. A hint of alarm returned to her face as she looked from her hand up to Clark's face.

"Sorry," apologized Clark, as he regretfully let go over her hand. "Will has a set of your 'bots in his body. I am afraid it is very dangerous for you to know too much about the future. And if you touch him, you will definitely know too much. We don't want to create a paradox, which might change history."

Aubrey numbly nodded her head while her mind went into overdrive. They knew about her 'bots! She never, ever, ever had told anyone about her 'bots. Not that anyone since the fall of her original civilization would even understand the concept of nanotechnology. No, when she used the 'bots healing powers on herself or others or she used the gift to read other's minds, she always claimed it to be a magic trick or one of her mysterious powers when she was play-acting as one of the gods.

She certainly would have remembered if she had ever used her 'bots on him. So, if he really had a set of her 'bots, she must have done it some time in the future, which would certainly help support their time travel story. The big question was - why had she introduced her 'bots into his body? The reasons she had done it in the past fell into three main categories. First was to save a desperately hurt or dying friend. Second was to ensure the loyalty of her vassals. Third was to extract some information from a foe.

If Will had been a foe, it seemed unlike they would have come to her looking for her help. It had been millennia since she had used her 'bots to coerce the behavior of others, so it seemed unlikely she would start doing that again in the future. Besides, if she had used those methods on Will, his attitude towards her as they stood there would be way different from how he was behaving. So that left the first option as the most likely; in the future, Will would turn out to be an important friend. This would certainly tie in with C.K.'s original statement that they needed help locating a missing woman, who would one day be her best friend.

And perhaps, if Will really had a set of her 'bots, it would be the conclusive proof she needed to know they were telling the truth.

"Will, if you could give me a tiny sample of your blood, it would be proof you are who you say you are. And if it is small enough, I shouldn't be able to extract any dangerous memories."

Aubrey watched as Will glanced over to C.K., who after a couple of seconds gave a small nod. Will certainly looked to be the older of the two, but C.K. was apparently in charge. Why? One more bit of data to feed into her 'bot database.

"Okay," responded Will. As they stepped out onto the terrace, he fished out his pocketknife. Looking around for a good place to work, he finally walked over to the heavy stone railing which separated the terrace from the gentle grassy slope leading down to the river.

Without giving himself time to think about it, Whitney jabbed the sharp blade into his left index finger. As the blood rose to the surface, he transferred the tiniest possible bead to the knife. Then he smeared the blood on the flat, upper surface of the gray stone railing.

Pulling his handkerchief to wipe the remaining blood from the blade and then to stop the bleeding of his finger, Whitney took a step back and away to allow Aubrey to reach the sample without risking touching him.

Aubrey reached down and touched her right index finger to the trace of blood smeared on the stone. Instantly, her 'bot network brought the 'bots in the sample on-line. At this point Aubrey wasn't particularly surprised to find they were really were present; what would have been the point of the others lying about something that could so easily be tested?

The several hundred thousand 'bots available were too few to store any complete memories of Will's, but they did provide the information that the 'bots had been introduced into Will's body only four days earlier. Four days? That was strange, she would have guessed, if he had them at all, they would have been introduced months or years earlier.

Aubrey looked at the men. "How long have you been back here in 1936?"

At first Clark took her question to mean she had the proof she needed to believe they truly were from the future. "Four days."

At this comment Clark saw her eyes flick rapidly back and forth between him and Whitney as though thoughts were racing through her head. Then he realized she must have gotten at least some data from the 'bots in Whitney's blood, like maybe how long they had been there. He was going to have to explain a little more of things to clarify, and to ensure she understood the urgency of their task.

"There was, or will be, an accident up in the future. Your 'bots had to be introduced into Whi . . . ahh Will, to save him, but that wasn't the end of it. No, we only discovered when it was almost too late that there was something back here we needed to retrieve before things in the future became irreversible. I only found out we needed to come back here to 1936 Germany three minutes before we left."

Clark shook his head before continuing. "Three minutes. There wasn't time to learn the language or even find appropriate clothes. We just had to go. At least I had the experience of having been back to ancient Rome, so I had a little idea what to expect. Since we didn't have any time to prepare before we left, we were fortunately able to set our arrival here for a week before the events of interest, so we could do a little preparation at this end instead.

"Unfortunately, when we got here, we discovered one of the locals we must deal with was being held by the Gestapo."

At this point in Clark's explanation, he was interrupted by a muttered, "Fucking Gestapo," by Whitney.

"Yeah," continued Clark, picking up and amplifying some of Whitney's sentiments. "Not just your everyday, garden variety Gestapo, but some fucking crazy off-shoot branch that is on some 'glorious' mission to find ancient relics with mystical powers to ensure the Third Reich will last the thousand years Hitler keeps boasting about."

Calming back down a little, Clark went on. "Sorry. Anyway, did you hear about the destruction of the chateau on the outskirts of Berlin last night? The one where the cliff collapsed and the whole building slid down into the river?"

Aubrey nodded. She had heard it mentioned while she had been listening to the radio during lunch.

"That was one of the bases of operation for the 'occult' branch of the Gestapo. We managed to rescue the man from back here that we need, but the chateau was destroyed in the process. And, unfortunately, the girl who came back with us was captured. We have no idea where they have taken her or the local woman who was with her. We have less than three days to get her back before the events, which are the real reason we came back here, come to fruition. That's why we had to come to you for help. We have no idea where to look next."

Aubrey had to wonder if the missing girl was a future version of herself. It sounded like she had introduced her 'bots into Will just minutes before they had traveled back in time. Was that why they were being so cagey and revealing so little about what was going on or even their 'real' names? If this truly involved a future version of herself, she was definitely going to have to help.

"Okay, I will try to do what I can to help locate your 'friend'. Do you have any more information to go on? Names? Descriptions? Anything that will give me a place to start?"

Clark let out a small sigh. If Aubrey was going to help, things had to get better. "Will, what was the name of the officer who took the girls away?"

Whitney remembered the name Lana and Laura had given him while they had been in the virtual reality place, but why hadn't he thought to ask for a description? Or as the girls were being dragged from the ballroom, why hadn't he taken a quick look? If only he could remember what had happened right before he had been shot to death. But then maybe not remembering being killed was a good thing.

"Major Biberach. Unfortunately, I never got a look at him."

"And the two women you are looking for?" asked Aubrey in almost morbid fascination, wondering if she was about to hear a description of herself.

Clark hated to provide anymore information about the future than was absolutely necessary, but Lana's and Marion's names might show up in records which Aubrey could access. Hopefully, both of their names were common enough to not be too memorable to her fifty or sixty years in the future.

"The names you will want to look for are Lana Lang and Marion Jones. Lana is sixteen with long black hair, a little shorter than you, and has a more petite build. Marion is about forty with shoulder length black hair and she is tall, five nine or five ten."

Aubrey nodded, but had to wonder if this 'Lana' was really her. She did sometimes live as a brunette, and the slightly shorter, more petite comments could just be C.K.'s way of trying to keep her from learning too much about the future.

"Okay, I will try to make some quick, quiet inquiries. How can I reach you when I get some information?"

Clark gave her the phone number back at the Olympic Village, but Aubrey was barely listening, not that it mattered with the 'bot network's total recall abilities. No, she was already thinking about how best to start a search. Johan was the obvious place.

And then, as though thinking about him was enough to make him magically appear, the terrace door from the living room opened again.

"Ahh, there you are Aubrey," began a man's deep baritone voice in resounding German. "I hope I have made it home in time to have dinner with the children before we must get ready for the opera."

Aubrey, Clark, and Whitney turned from the railing where they had been watching the children play down below, while they had had their private conversation. Clark and Whitney found themselves facing the tall man from the photos on the mantel. Aubrey's husband. Only now he stood there wearing the crisp black uniform of a high ranking member of the Gestapo. For a moment they were both dumbfounded. How could Chloe, or rather Aubrey, be mixed up with the Gestapo? Had she truly believed their story and was she going to help? Or had she merely been stalling them until he arrived? Were they going to have to fight their way out of her home?

Aubrey quickly moved across and pulled her husband into a hug. Then with an arm still wrapped around him, she turned back to Will and C.K.

Speaking in English, she said. "Johan, this is the son of one of my distributors in Chicago and a friend of his. I met them when I was in America five years ago, but they have certainly grown up a lot since then. They are traveling through Europe for the summer and happened to stop by this afternoon."

Well, she appears to be playing along thought Clark as he stepped forward and offered his hand. "It is nice to meet you sir. My name is Calvin Klein, but my friend's call me C.K."

Whitney couldn't suppress his laugh and when the others looked at him, he tried to turn it into a cough. Only Clark would figure out a way to pay tribute to the most famous time-traveler of the twentieth century, Marty McFly. For a moment Whitney wondered if Clark actually had a pair of underwear back home with the name 'Calvin Klein' on the waistband.

Once he had his grin more or less under control, Whitney stepped forward and offered his hand. "Will," hmm, if Clark was going to go the famous name route, he could to. "Will Smith."

"Johan Steenbergen," responded the man in the black uniform with only a modest German accent to his English. "It is always nice to meet one of Aubrey's associates or at least sons of associates from America."

As Aubrey kept her arm wrapped around Johan and carefully avoided touching Will, she took in the uneasy expression she had seen on Will and C.K.'s faces since the moment they had seen her husband's uniform. They had obviously run a foul of some splinter group of the SS, but then every large organization always had a few crazies. The SS had an important job to do and they had rules to follow like everyone else. Or at least that was how she thought things were in 1936, a time long before the atrocities of World War 2 would come to light or even yet occur.

"Johan is the head of the Waffen-SS for the entire Saxony district," began Aubrey hoping this information would help Will and C.K. to understand she had access to Gestapo information at the highest levels to help in her search for their missing friends. But all she saw was how the unease in their eyes grew even more. Why did they so fear the SS?

Having just met the two boys, Johan didn't realize how much his presence in his uniform disturbed them. "You must stay for dinner. I, for one, and I am sure Patrick, for another, would enjoy hearing all about life in the States. And if you like, I am sure we can arrange a couple of extra tickets for the opera."

Clark was getting very mixed signals from Aubrey; was she really going to help them or not? Everything had been going so well until her husband showed up. And it was suddenly hard to be certain of his own feelings. Was it that Johan was a ranking member of the Gestapo that bothered him the most? Or was it meeting one of Chloe's former husbands which caused these sudden feelings of hurt and betrayal? Would he have felt the same way towards any of the hundreds of others, even if they weren't Nazi bastards?

"I'm sorry, it would be fun to have some more time to spend together, but we are just on a short lay-over on our way from Prague to Berlin. We have to be heading back to the train station shortly to make our six-thirty train. Will's father is expecting us on that train and is meeting us at the Berlin station. One of our friends from High School is a swimmer on the America Olympic team, so we are going to be in Berlin for the games."

Johan nodded his understanding, he knew about keeping to schedules while being on vacations.

Aubrey could see C.K. and Will were uncomfortable in her husband's presence and she had gotten the information she needed, so perhaps it would be best to end this meeting now.

"Johan, why don't you go play with the children, they will be so happy to see you in daylight for once. I will show Will and C.K. out and then join you."

Johan nodded and headed towards the stairs leading down to where the children were still practicing their tumbling and cartwheels.

As Aubrey put her hand on the handle to open the door back into the house, Clark remembered something Chloe had told him long ago in a massage room in ancient Tolosa on the day he had finally revealed his secrets to her, and had to ask, "Are Patrick and Maddie really your children?"

Aubrey paused and looked at him for a moment. Perhaps the truth would help her to re-establish their trust. "No. Their mother was a good friend of mine who died in childbirth. But I hate to see children grow up without a mother. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, it was just related to something you will tell me one time up in the future. It's not important." As they walked down the hall towards the front door, Clark knew he shouldn't reveal any more about the future than what was absolutely necessary, but he felt compelled to give her a warning. "I can see you really care about the children and, though I shouldn't, I want to give you a warning about the future."

At this Aubrey paused and looked up into C.K.'s eyes. They had been so careful not to give her any information about the future, and now he was about to knowingly violate that restriction. And it appeared to involve her kids. Perhaps she hadn't given birth to Patrick and Maddie, but she felt as close to them as any of her own natural children.

"There is a big war coming. Oh, you have some time. I am not good at ancient history, but in August or September of 1939, Hitler will invade Poland and start a second great war. Only this time the casualties won't be limited mostly to the military. No, the civilian casualties in Europe will be in the range of one hundred million. And ultimately, Germany will bear the brunt of the deaths and destruction."

Aubrey was almost paralyzed with shock. One hundred million dead, how was that possible?

But Clark wasn't finished yet. "And this beautiful city of Dresden will not escape the destruction. They will even coin a new word for what happens here: firestorm. The city will bombed from the air for three days and nights. The fires that will be started will all grow together into one massive conflagration. The fire will be so intense it will begin to draw all of the air and oxygen from the surrounding areas, which will just feed the fire and at the same time suffocate everyone around. By the time it is over, the death toll will, I think, approach one hundred thousand with most of the deaths by asphyxiation. After the war, for much of the world, the name of Dresden will come to be synonymous with death."

Aubrey could suddenly do nothing but stare at C.K. and watch him try to give a small smile.

"Obviously, I will know you in the future, so you will survive. But I don't know about the fate of the children. If you care about them, please get them out of Europe within the next couple of years. They should be safe somewhere in the Americas or maybe Australia."

Aubrey nodded as she continued to look into C.K.'s face. She knew his fear of a time paradox and what it must have cost him to give her this information. Why did he decide to do it, she wondered? He had only known Patrick and Maddie for twenty minutes, so why should he care so much? And then she realized he wasn't doing it for the children, he was doing it for her; to keep her from going through a potentially painful loss. And then suddenly all of his words, facial expressions, and body language 'clicked'. She and this C.K. would be together in the future. How painful was it for him to see her currently married to someone else and raising someone else's children as her own? And yet he was trying to put their happiness and safety first.

For a moment longer Aubrey just stared up into the face of this man, trying to burn every nuance into her fantastic memory. Suddenly, she had this vision of them doing great and important things together in the oh-so-distant future and she couldn't help but throw her arms around him for a quick hug.

C.K. returned the hug with such ferocious strength she thought he was going to crack a couple of her ribs even as it convinced her that her deductions had been correct. All she could do was whisper 'Thank You' for the warning about the possible fate of her children.

Clark didn't want to release her now that he had found her again, but knew that he must. This Chloe's future was here, not with him. Still, the hug had managed to raise his mood from the depressing conversation about wars and death. He only let his fingers linger in hers for a moment before stepping back.

Aubrey stepped past the two men and opened the heavy front door. "I promise I will get word to you as soon as I find out anything about your two missing friends."

Clark nodded. He now knew she was on their side even if she was married to a Gestapo officer.

"It was nice meeting you," Clark said as he turned to go.

"And I am looking forward to seeing you again in the future," answered Aubrey with a smile. She would most definitely be watching out for an encounter with this 'C.K.' somewhere in the distant future.

As he walked down the front steps beside Whitney, Clark couldn't help remembering the first time he had met Chloe on the first day of eighth grade. Over that summer he had shot up from five six to five nine and was still growing fast. He felt so awkward and gangly on that first day. He was just trying to get down the hallway, mostly looking down at his feet to keep from tripping over them, when he heard a squeal and the sound of books hitting the floor up ahead. When he looked up, he found this strange girl just staring at him with her mouth hanging open. She wasn't dressed like any of the other girls in eighth grade but looked like some strange refugee from the big city all lost in rural Smallville. But after only a second she had closed her mouth and grown the giant smile he would get to know so well. Then she had marched right up to him and stuck out her hand, introducing herself as Chloe Sullivan.

As they passed out through the heavy, black wrought iron gate, Whitney couldn't help but notice the big grin on Clark's face. "What you thinking about, Clark?"

"Oh, I was just remembering the first time I met Chloe. It was the first day of the eighth grade and when she saw me, she dropped her books and her mouth fell open in shock. I never understood why until just now."

"Ah, and here I thought you were thinking about your alter-ego, Marty McFly."

Clark looked at Whitney and grinned. "So why did you pick Will Smith? You don't look very black and you have never struck me as musically inclined."

Whitney put a momentarily hurt expression on his face before breaking back into a grin. "When we were standing on the terrace, it suddenly occurred to me that we are the two 'baddest boys' around."

Then Whitney threw his arm over Clark's shoulder and started whistling the theme song to 'Cops'. When he got to the chorus, they both shouted out the words:

'Bad boys, bad boys. What'cha gonna do when they come for you. Bad boys . . .'

End of Chapter 12

Author's Notes:

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. A special thanks to 'BeyondLSD'. Several others have requested I bring back Chloe, but somehow the way he stated his comment triggered a new direction in my head.

BeyondLSD - I hope you like the way it turned out. I know it is somewhat different than what we discussed in the e-mails, but I thought this was more fun - Let Clark think he knows who it will be and then change it to the original Chloe instead. I like the awkwardness between the characters that resulted. At first I thought using the original Chloe would mess up the time line of the whole story, but I went back and looked at the early part of 'The Portal', and saw I had given myself an out. When Clark and Chloe first kiss in the pool in the Professor's canyon, Chloe thinks to herself how it seemed like she had been waiting for this moment almost forever. At the time, I meant it to be about her 'yet-to-be-revealed' long life and her never having met someone who was truly her equal. But it works equally well if she had first met Clark over 65 years earlier in Nazi Germany. Even for Chloe, waiting 65 years for a kiss would seem like almost forever.

Limar - Not a teacher or student or before I started writing, not even that avid a fan of history, just a long-time reader with wildly varied tastes. When I first decided to try my hand at writing, I spent several hours sitting out on my deck on a Sunday afternoon with a pencil and a tablet and scribbled out a bunch of potential ideas. When I realized that almost no back story had been given about Chloe's character during the first season except she had arrived in Smallville a couple of years earlier, I knew I could do something completely different with her. And once I decided she would be from some long lost ancient civilization, then a time travel story where her secret would be revealed in the most shocking manner was the obvious way to go (Although looking back, I can see my writing skills back then are nowhere near what they are now, and I could do that part of the story so much better.) When I was sitting there trying to decide on a time period for the story I happened to be in the middle of listening to audio book version of 'I, Claudius' in my car. I think listening to that book is why I decided to set the story during the early months of Caligula's reign. Anyway, since the basic plot line of the story is so preposterous, it seems important to get the details as correct as possible to make the story seem more real. Over the past couple of years I probably spend almost as much time on research as I do writing. Of course, just like the internet, you shouldn't necessarily trust my facts about history. Probably sixty percent of my facts are true, thirty percent are slightly twisted to fit the needs of the story, and ten percent are things I just make up. Hopefully, if I am good enough, you can't tell which are the sixty percent and which are the ten percent. In this chapter, the camera company which Aubrey owns, 'Ihagee Kamerawerk Steenbergen & Co.', was a real camera company that existed in Dresden and which did develop the 35mm SLR camera and did introduce it in 1936. The owner, Johan Steenbergen, has an interesting story of his own. He was actually Belgian. His company was 'nationalized' by the Nazis in the late 1930s. He was married to an American woman of Jewish ancestry. In early 1942 after Germany declared war on the United States, he and his wife were allowed to leave Germany and traveled via Lisbon to the U.S. where they spent the remainder of the war. After the war, Dresden ended up in the Russia sector and he spent years trying to regain control of his former company from the communists. Very interesting stuff.

About your question about Lana/Laura. I don't yet know how their story will ultimately play out. But it is not particularly about gay vs. straight or even about sex. It is about a seventeen thousand year old mind which has seen and done everything suddenly trapped into sharing the body of a sixteen year old girl. Plus there are some things going on with Laura's situation which will come more fully to light in the next chapter (Think Patty Hearst). Truthfully, I see the situation sort of like an arranged marriage in the good old days; two total strangers have to find a way to live with each other. Plus Lana and Laura's situation is even more tightly woven than any simple marriage. I think it will be awhile before they find a true equilibrium that is comfortable for both of them.

Rebel Goddess - I don't have any specific plans in mind for the Gretchen character at the moment, but I am open to suggestions by you or anyone else. I am learning it useful to thrown in some extra characters from time to time. Sometimes they just disappear forever and sometimes they resurface a few chapters later. Sort of like the old Latin instructor in the first story and how he ended up playing a role in the climax of events in Rome. If you have plenty of story threads going, when you pull a bunch of them together it suddenly makes the story look more planned than it really is. Of course, my stories are more about the journey than the actual destination.

Anyway, I am always open to suggestions which will enrich the story. Although I will admit, I am more responsive to suggestions that fit into the story.

Until next time,

Duane


	13. Biological Families Chapter 13

Biological Families

Author: duane at duaneaakre dot com

Disclaimer: As always I own nothing. Well I own a house, two cars, a pair of jetskis, and a lot of other junk, but none of these characters.

Story Rating: R The story may drift into the HBO range rather than stay in the WB range, so to be on the safe side, I am rating this R.

Chapter 13

Lana felt the van grind to a halt. The motor was shut off and she sensed a slight movement through the floor, confirming the driver and the other man up front had just climbed down from the cab. It looked like they had reached their destination at last. Which meant she had procrastinated until the last possible moment again, just the way she had with telling Whitney about Lex. God, why couldn't she be more assertive when these awkward situations arose in her personal life? She had stood toe-to-toe with the Germans when it was necessary to save Whitney's life, so why was it so difficult to have this conversation with Laura?

The 'day' they had spent in Jaguar City had started out so much fun, well, except for the nudity taboo of Marion's. However once she had given Marion some more conservative clothes she seemed to have accepted, or at least decided to tolerate things. Oh, Lana had still seen the expression in her eyes that said she would have been a lot happier if everyone had been dressed like her, but she hadn't complained out loud.

Lana knew she would have felt more comfortable in a sarong like Marion's herself, but for some reason she couldn't explain, she had felt compelled to wear what Laura had selected for her. So she had spent the 'day' parading around Jaguar City in an outfit that was probably more erotic than actually just walking around naked. If only Lex had been along to share in the tour, then the little show they had been putting on would have been a lot more exciting.

Of course, things did get more exciting when 'evening' rolled around in the ancient Andean city they were visiting. Laura insisted it was the perfect time for Lana to learn the 'Dance of the Nine Veils' they had discussed the afternoon they had arrived in Rome, but which they had never gotten around to during their few hectic days in the Roman capitol. Lana had intended to explain it was never about becoming proficient at the dance, but sharing the experience with the guys which mattered. But somehow she had been unable to get the words out once the music started and its pulsating beat seemed to sync with the beating of her heart. Before she even knew how it happened, she and Laura were dancing together clad only in several layers of sheer material.

The dance had quickly become sensual as Laura alternated between removing one of her own veils and then one of Lana's. And as each new area of skin was exposed on Lana's body, Laura had spent more and more moments caressing her. Lana had previously exchanged a few small kisses with Laura, but it had only seemed like a harmless game. However this dance was moving beyond a simple game and into something else. Something Lana didn't think she wanted, but which her body seemed unable to resist. Faster and closer their two bodies moved, as Lana helplessly watched her own fingers start to play over Laura's naked form. She was sure she didn't want this, but as the music reached the crescendo her lips sought out Laura's. As their bodies began to intertwine, she couldn't understand why it suddenly felt so overwhelming right.

As the music wound down, Lana noticed the floating sensation like during the dance in the clouds over the Sphinx with the virtual-Lex. Briefly opening her eyes, Lana had looked past Laura's glistening body to the floor at least ten feet below. Floating in air was so nice, even better than floating in Lex's pool back home. Languidly she had just started to close her eyes, to lose herself to Laura's irresistible touch when a loud, sharp voice had broken the spell.

"What the hell are you girls doing?"

Lana's eyes had shot open to find Marion glaring up at them, her hands on her hips in a very agitated manner.

Suddenly Lana wondered what she was doing in Laura's embrace; it was Lex she loved. How had she let things get so out of control? Why was her body responding so strongly to Laura?

Abruptly Lana had ended the simulation of Jaguar City, severed the mind-link to Marion's body, and thrown up a mental wall between herself and Laura to give herself time to think.

As she returned to the real world, Lana wondered if Biberach or the guards heard or understood the sharp gasp Marion had released when she had been restored to her body. Or Lana's own racing heart and sharp intake of breathe.

For awhile Lana just sat, thankful for the near darkness of the van, as she waited for her heart to calm. And also waited as the lingering temptation to rejoin Laura slowly receded. What had just happened to her?

Finally, after nearly thirty more minutes of being jostled about in the back of the van, Lana felt somewhat calmer and noticed the rocking motion appeared to have led Biberach to nod off. Reaching over, she squeezed Marion's hand and whispered, "I'm sorry about that. I don't understand how things got so out of control."

Marion didn't respond except to pull her hand free from Lana's.

Lana slumped back against the wall of the van and spent the next hour pondering the whole situation. If they were to get out of this mess, she and Marion were going to have to work as a team. But Marion appeared to be seriously pissed off with her. And she couldn't really blame her. Marion was here in Europe on her honeymoon with Indy, obviously very much in love, and Laura picks that moment to live out some lesbian fantasy. What was going through Laura's head? Okay, mind, since strictly speaking she didn't have her own head.

After two hours the van ride finally came to an end. As they stepped out of the back of the van, Lana could see they were no longer in Berlin, but some quaint small village of medieval stone construction. Although, however picturesque the village looked on the outside, the small jail Biberach and his men had usurped for the night was more than adequate to confine two unarmed women.

The jailhouse was divided into two areas: a back room with two simple cells and a front room for the constable's use. When they arrived, the cells were unoccupied. Since each cell contained only one narrow cot, Lana had expected they would each have their own. But the Germans had unceremoniously shoved them both into the first cell and then retreated back to the front room. After a couple of minutes, she heard the front door open and close several times and she assumed Biberach and several of the others had left for more comfortable accommodations.

With a sigh, Lana sank down at one end of the cot. The cell was barely eight by ten feet and after subtracting out space for the cot, toilet, and sink, it barely left room for one person to move. And it was obvious Marion was still so agitated, she needed to move.

"I'm sorry about what happened back there," repeated Lana again, a little more loudly than she had dared back in the van.

At her words, Marion turned back towards her. Her face was a little flushed as she asked, "What was that all about?"

Lana ran the fingers of her right hand along the cool metal surface of the bed frame. "It is sort of complicated."

"Well, we seem to have plenty of time," said Marion as she leaned back against the wall of bars in the opposite corner of cell; as though she was uncomfortable at the thought of even the slightest touch of Lana's body.

Where to begin? wondered Lana. There was so much to tell and who knew what tidbit would make Marion feel more at ease.

"I am really only sixteen years old," began Lana hoping for a maternal reaction from Marion. "I never knew anything about 'living forever' or magically healing abilities or time machines until a little over three weeks ago. All of the claims I made to the Germans was just smoke to stall them in hopes Clark would get there in time to rescue us."

Marion looked at Lana and was reminded of how young the girl looked. And her friends, too.

"Why are you here? I mean it must be something important, so why not send someone with more experience?"

Lana shook her head and followed with a small shrug of her shoulders. "Because there is no one with more experience. Oh, thousands, maybe millions of people around the world will have small parts in developing the time machine, but only one person knew all of the details and pulled it all together. One of my friends, who until three weeks ago, I never knew was a seventeen thousand year old woman masquerading as a simple high school student. Her name is Chloe and Laura is sort of a ghost of her mind trapped in my head. And I didn't even know Laura was in my head until in the middle of the fight to maintain contact with Whitney's body."

"You certainly didn't act like you had only discovered her presence ten minutes before we went to . . . that place."

"Well, as you noticed, time passes much more swiftly in those virtual places than it does here in the real world. In the middle of the fight, when I first discovered Laura was in my head, we went to a virtual coffee shop and had a nice chat. Then during the lull at the end of the fight, Laura, Whitney, a virtual copy of my boyfriend Lex, and I all went dancing for a couple of hours. If you have never danced on a cloud like Fred Astaire, you just haven't lived."

Marion noticed the dreamy expression that appeared on Lana's face as she talked about dancing on a cloud. And after all the other things she had seen in the 'virtual world' as Lana called it, dancing on a cloud didn't sound impossible.

And the dreamy expression also convinced Marion Lana had been telling the truth about being sixteen; only a teenage girl could have the rapid mood swings the girl had been exhibiting.

"Lana, from the way Whitney was always looking at you and what you said during the fight, I thought he was your boyfriend."

Lana couldn't stop the blush that crept across her cheeks. Before she responded, she decided she needed to find some time to learn how to use the 'bots to better control the involuntary responses of her body.

"He was my boyfriend for a long time, almost three years. We didn't break up until shortly before we arrived back here in Germany. Well, if I am going to be honest, the break up was entirely my fault; I fell for Lex during the week we spent together in ancient Rome. We only returned home from Rome a week before we came here. And during that week, I manage to procrastinate the entire time from telling Whitney the truth."

"So why is Whitney here with you and not this Lex?"

Slowly Lana pulled her legs up from the floor until the heels of her bare feet were resting on the edge of the cot and her knees were drawn up under her chin. She wrapped her arms about her legs before saying at barely above a whisper. "There was an accident back home. Chloe, the mastermind behind the time machine, and Lex are both hurt, maybe even dying. We discovered an object exists back here which might save them. With our special gifts and experience with our earlier trip to ancient Rome, it was obvious Clark and I were the ones to come here. An extra set of eyes and hands seemed like a good idea and Whitney was the only one within reach in the two minutes we had before we had to leave."

Lana looked up at Marion and Marion could see the tears in the girl's eyes. "We have to be at the opening ceremonies to retrieve the device we need. What if we don't make it in time because of these Nazis? What if we then can't save Lex?" Lana dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve. "I have only been together with Lex for two weeks, but already I don't know how I could survive without him."

Marion couldn't stop herself from going over to the cot and sitting down beside the girl. After the outrageous things she had been forced to witness during the visit to Jaguar City, she had vowed to herself she wouldn't let the girl touch her again, if at all possible. But now, she couldn't resist pulling Lana into her arms.

"There, there, Lana. Just let it out. You'll feel better. And when you're finished, maybe you can tell me a little more about your Lex and your time together." Marion still didn't understand what had been going on between the two girls back in virtual place, but she suddenly realized it had been fairly one sided. Lana hadn't greatly resisted the other girl's advances, but it had been the other girl, Laura, who seemed to initiate all of the contact. Perhaps Lana's subconscious was trying to cope with her fears by seeking comfort from whatever source was offered.

Lana wrapped her arms around the older woman and then rested her head against her shoulder. Ever since Clark had told her about Lex and Chloe, they had been so focused on the 'mission'; she had been forced to keep everything bottled up. She could hardly cry on Whitney's shoulder about Lex's condition. And she couldn't do it on Clark's shoulder either. No, if the stories Lex and Chloe had related about Clark's actions at the arena when he thought Chloe was dead were true, she couldn't allow them both to lose control at the same time. If Clark lost it, he could destroy half of Berlin.

But now with Marion's arms wrapped around her, she was finally able to shed the tears she had been unknowingly holding back for all of these days.

They had talked late into the night until Lana had finally dozed off in the comforting maternal embrace of Marion's arms. It was something she hadn't experienced in almost ten years, when the nightmares of her parents' deaths had finally receded and Nell had stopped rocking her to sleep every night.

Lana awoke surprisingly refreshed the next day. Not that her body didn't feel one hundred percent every morning when she rose since her return from Rome and the discovery of her gift. But this morning her mood felt a lot lighter, even though they were still being held prisoner by the Nazis.

She had expected the Nazis to awaken them early to move them, since a small jail in a tiny village hardly seemed like the ultimate destination for a group of Nazis who were into big, ostentatious displays like the black cathedral Clark had described. No, a small jail couldn't be right.

But no one came at first light. Or even second light. By Lana's internal 'bot clock, it was a little after nine thirty when someone finally stuck his head through the doorway separating the front room from the cells behind. After a few seconds the head was pulled back. It was almost another ten minutes before the door opened again, this time accompanied by the rattle of dishes and cutlery. Apparently, they weren't leaving just yet.

They had lunch and an early supper before they were finally escorted from the cell and back into the van. They spent two more hours riding in silence before they reached what some sixth sense told Lana was their ultimate destination.

Now, with the rear door of the van about to open and whatever destiny they had spent the last eighteen hours approaching almost upon them, Lana knew she couldn't put off talking to Laura a moment longer. Although after she had rebuffed all four times Laura had tried to initiate a conversation during the course of the day, she wasn't certain what her response would be.

'Laura?' she thought.

Instantly she was no longer seated in the back of the van, but instead found herself standing in front of the window in her bedroom back at Nell's house. For a moment she just stood there gazing out the window at the Kent homestead off in the distance. If she walked over there, would she find them at home?

Slowly she turned and looked over at the bed. As she more or less expected, she found Laura there. This time Laura had chosen to look exactly like Lana. And she was even wearing Lana's favorite bone-colored satin pajamas. Oh, she had a couple of more erotic negligees stashed away that Nell didn't know about which she had ordered online using her Talon corporate visa card, but these satin pjs were still somehow her favorites. She just loved the feel of the material against her skin, particularly the way it slid across her butt. Looking down, she wasn't surprised she was wearing the same outfit.

Laura raised a hand and crooked a finger at her. "Come, join me."

Lana had allowed herself to be drawn into the virtual world for the sole purpose of telling Laura she needed to back off on the whole lesbian thing, but once she was there her body again seemed to betray her. As she approached the bed, it was like looking at herself in a mirror. And who hasn't fantasized about having an identical twin and doing a little experimenting?

Seeming to have a will of their own, Lana felt her hands slide up her body and caress her own breasts. Immediately, she was breathing hard and fast, almost hyperventilating, as her body kicked into sexual overdrive. What was happening to her? It was like the dance of veils all over again.

"Laura . . ." she started to say, to ask what was going on. But she hardly got the word out before Laura raised a finger to her lips to silence her. And the touch of it felt so wonderful, she just had to slip her tongue out and wet the tip of it.

As she watched Laura lean in for a kiss, she knew if that kiss began she would be gone, lost in Laura's rapturous game. For it was clear, somehow Laura was using her own body as a weapon against her. Whether she was playing with her hormones or stimulating the pleasure centers of her brain or doing something else entirely, the end result was the same. Laura was somehow cheating.

Laura's lips were only inches from hers when Lana managed, just for an instant, to pull her attention together. And an instant was all she needed. However she couldn't just switch off this virtual encounter, or she might never be able to risk one with Laura again. No, she had to find a safer environment for them to have a real talk.

Concentrating hard, Lana made her bedroom shimmer and disappear. When the room reformed around them a fraction of a second later, Laura paused and pulled back in surprise. They were now sitting on the couch in the Kent's living room, fully clothed and Laura's appearance had been altered back to the 'safer' Chloe.

Lana sat back and let out a small sigh as the passion she had been feeling eased down a notch. At least until Laura started speaking.

"Cool, Lana. This is so much better than what I had planned. You really want to play with Clark and me?"

Before Lana could respond, Laura heard someone moving around in the kitchen. With a big grin on her face, Laura quickly stood, grabbed Lana's hand, and started pulling her towards the kitchen door.

As she pushed open the swinging door, Laura was expecting a half naked Clark to be lounging around, waiting for their arrival. But Laura froze for a moment when she discovered it wasn't Clark, but rather Martha Kent who was in the kitchen.

Mrs. Kent was busy slicing a blueberry pie when she looked up and saw the girls. "Ah, right on time. The pie just came out of the oven, so it is fresh and hot. Have a seat while I get you some milk."

Laura looked from Martha to Lana and back again. She couldn't understand why Lana had interrupted their fun to bring her here.

"Martha," began Laura before she was quieted by a sharp look from the older woman.

"Ah, I think it better be Mrs. Kent, Laura," stated Martha, as she returned to the table with two glasses. "I think you have to earn the privilege to call me Martha. And lately, your behavior towards Lana has been completely inappropriate. Only a child would try to force someone to do things against their will. And if you are going to behave like a spoiled child, then a child is how you are going to be treated."

Laura looked at Lana for a second before turning back to Martha. Obviously, Martha was not real and since she was not putting the words into Martha's mouth, it had to be Lana.

"Okay, Mrs. Kent," answered Laura with just a hint of a smug, superior tone in her voice.

Laura actually jumped in her seat as Martha slapped her hand down hard onto the top of the table. "Chloe Sullivan, I know you are in there. It has only been three weeks since the events back in the arena. Have you really changed that much?"

Suddenly being addressed as Chloe by Martha Kent seemed to jolt Laura's self confidence; the condescending expression on her face slipped a little.

"Yeah, I'm still Chloe."

Martha gave a small nod of acknowledgement at this concession. "I thought so. Now, how about explaining why you are treating your best friend the way you have been."

Laura ran her tongue along her suddenly dry lips before reaching for her glass of milk and taking a large drink.

As Laura started to speak, her gaze shifted from Martha to Lana. "I love her, ah, you. I think I have always had feelings for you. But it wasn't until I was you, or at least had use of your body for the last two weeks we were in ancient Rome, that it finally became obvious to me."

Laura reached out and clasped Lana's hand. This time there was no overpowering feelings of lust associated with the action just warmth and caring. "Why do you think I sacrificed myself when we returned from Rome so you could have your body back? I did it because I loved you and wanted you to live."

Laura was watching Lana's eyes intently as she spoke, but unexpectedly, it was Martha who responded.

"If you really love her, why have you been pushing so hard? Why have you been playing with the responses of her body?"

Laura pulled her hand out of Lana's, stood, and walked over to the kitchen window. Lana watched her stare out the window for over a minute before she finally spoke.

"I'm sorry, it's just the waiting between the times you come to visit me here has been so hard. I mean I have been cut off from all human contacts for years a few other times before, mostly when I have been held captive in some deep, dark dungeon. But for some reason it never seemed as lonely as this. Perhaps it is knowing you are always so close, yet out of my reach."

"What do you mean years? It hasn't been over eighteen hours since we were in Jaguar City," asked Lana, the Martha intermediary momentarily forgotten.

Laura turned away from the window and Lana could see the tears in the other girl's eyes.

"And how much time passed in the 'real' world while we spent most of the day together there? A handful of seconds? Well, except when I was controlling your body during the fight, I seemed to be trapped in that same accelerated reality. Maybe for you it has only been eighteen hours since the time in Jaguar City, but for me it has been over three years. Three years of waiting, hoping you would consent to talk with me."

Lana could do nothing for a moment but stare at Laura. As Laura's true situation began to sink in, Lana's eyes widened in horror. Time ran a thousand, maybe two thousand times as fast for Laura since her mind existed completely within the 'bot network. Every minute Lana ignored her would seem like over a day. Lana tried to imagine what it would be like to go years with no one to talk to. Slowly some of the craziness of Laura's behavior was making a little sense. Would she develop a 'crush' on a person, if they were the only one she could talk to? Wasn't that almost how things had started between Lex and her?

Now it was Lana's turn to feel apologetic. Without hesitation she rose from the table, walked over, and pulled Laura into a hug. Quietly she whispered into her ear. "I am so sorry. I didn't understand. Will you forgive me? I promise not to avoid you so long in the future."

As Laura hugged her tightly back, Lana could feel the sexual tension start to rise again. Before the situation got out of control, Lana pulled her head back.

"Laura, I am not ready to take things in the direction you want to go, at least not yet. You have to back off and give me some space."

Lana watched the hurt expression roll across Laura's face before she slowly nodded and tried to project a resolute image to indicate she would abide by Lana's wishes. But she couldn't stop the one large tear that escaped her left eye and slowly rolled down her cheek.

The awkward silence that stretched between the two girls was finally broken by Martha, but this time it was Laura who was using her as a surrogate to say things she couldn't quite say for herself.

"Lana, I think Laura is ready to try and keep herself under better control. There are maybe some things you could do to help her cope."

Lana lifted her right hand and wiped the tear from Laura's face. Then she ran her hand through the other girl's short blonde hair until it came to rest across the back of her neck.

"What do you want Laura?"

Laura worried her lower lip for a moment in a manner that was so typical of Chloe before she finally, hesitantly spoke.

"Ah, I know you hate to give up control, but can I drive once and awhile? Only when I have use of your body do I feel truly alive. And only then does my mind seem to function at 'normal' speed."

Lana felt some of the tension leave her body. She had been a little afraid of what Laura was going to request, but this was something she could do.

"Of course, you can 'drive' sometimes. How about right now? I don't know where we are, but I just have this feeling it is the destination we have been heading for ever since we left the chateau."

Laura grinned and Lana was happy to read the sudden excitement in her face.

"I don't know exactly where we are, but can't you smell the water?"

Lana turned her attention back to the 'real' world and realized the door in the back of the van was just starting to open. And there was a definite hint of the waterfront in the air. Plus, it was now well after dark, but the light flowing in through the gap with the door was much brighter than could be explained by a simple streetlamp. Wherever they were, it was starting to look more interesting.

With a smile, Lana looked back at Laura. "I think I will make some popcorn, it looks like the main feature is about to begin. Do you want plain or buttered?"

Laura got a big grin. "Buttered, but you better get me a diet Coke to go with it. Have to keep things in balance, you know. Anyway, when it's ready, join me in the driver's seat." Then Laura shimmered and was gone from the Kent kitchen.

With part of her attention focused on the activity which was finally starting up in the 'real' world, Lana walked over to the cupboard where she knew the Kent's kept the popcorn, pulled out a bag and tossed it into the microwave. Then as she waited for it to pop, she decided to experiment a bit and shifted her location from the Kent kitchen to the backroom at The Talon. As soon as the popcorn was finished, she pulled the bag from the microwave and dumped the contents into a large bowl. She walked through the deserted coffee shop and then back into the old theater she had been slowly restoring ever since they had opened The Talon. It would still be a few more months before she would have sufficient time and surplus funds to finish the job, but it was far enough along for her current needs. Selecting her favorite spot, the center seat in the fourth row from the front, she slouched comfortably down just as the curtain was retracted to expose the screen.

The house lights went down and the opening credits began to play. Instantly she recognized the theme music from Star Wars and then, just like in the beginning of that movie, text began to scroll up the screen

_**The Perils of Lana Lang**_

_**Episode Seven - The Revenge of Biberach**_

_When we last saw the intrepid Miss Lang, she was _

_being hauled away by the nefarious Nazi officer,_

_Major Biberach, for destinations unknown. Will she_

_survive his diabolical plans? Will she ever discover_

_how his henchmen achieve their great strength?_

_Will Clark and Whitney come riding to her rescue?_

_Stay tuned for this week's exciting new episode._

Lana couldn't help but laugh; she hadn't planned anything so elaborate. These opening credits had to be a gift from Laura. Settling back and feeling more relaxed than she had thought would be possible before the conversation with Laura; Lana grabbed a big handful of popcorn and watched as the view from her 'real' eyes was displayed up on the large silver screen.

Without even waiting for the order from Major Biberach, Laura bounced to her feet as the door in the back of the van swung fully open. It felt so good to back in the 'real' world after all of the time she had been trapped in the virtual one, she almost dashed out of the van before Biberach or his two favorite henchmen had even risen to their feet. If it wasn't for Marion's presence and the need to keep her safe, she might have done it just to see their reaction. She was feeling so energized she was almost certain she could take all three of the men and get Marion and herself clear before Marion would receive any permanently fatal injury.

But then she got a good look out the back of the van and realized why the light coming in through the door was so bright. The van was inside a giant building. And the interior of the building was crawling with people. If she did manage to get the two of them clear of the van, it looked very unlikely they would get away unnoticed or unhindered. No, they were going to have to find a better opportunity to make their escape.

As Laura paused for a moment after rising to gaze out into the cavernous interior of the building in which they now found themselves, Hein abruptly grabbed her with his good right hand and shoved her brusquely out through the open door. When he had first appeared in the morning his left arm had been in a sling, but by now the sling had been disposed of and the arm's full function was mostly restored from the effects of her attack during their battle back at the chateau. Not so with his other injuries though, his ruined eye was covered by thick white gauze held in place by two strips of cloth tied around his head and his ruined ear was covered with another wide bandage.

Laura was about ready to toss a biting comment back at the injured German when the true contents of this giant building came into view and she could do nothing but stop and stare in wonder. This was so not good.

As Marion was forced from the van to a position beside Laura, the women found themselves standing near the center of an absolutely huge building brightly lit by giant banks of sodium lights arranged all along the ceiling. Laura's 'bot system quickly estimated the dimensions of the large interior space to be eleven hundred twenty five feet long by three hundred seventy five feet wide with an arched ceiling that reached just over two hundred twenty feet high in the center.

The half of the building to their left seemed mostly empty, at least in comparison to the space to their right, a space filled with the largest, most beautiful, yet deadly-looking warship Laura had ever seen. The gargantuan ship was painted in such a light shade of gray as to appear virtually white under the artificial lights. It mounted eight mammoth guns split into pairs in each of two turrets fore and aft. And it absolutely bristled with smaller guns from stem to stern.

The ship and the adjacent section of dock were a virtual beehive of activity, most of the men present were sailors, but a fair number appeared to be civilian dockworkers. Over the din of the workers, Laura could clearly hear loud creaking and grinding noises from the far end of the building. Looking down to that end, she saw a large set of telescoping doors being slowly forced open. Once they were fully open, the way would be clear for the ship to exit its slip. Shit, thought Laura, the giant battleship was making ready to put out to sea. And they wouldn't have brought us here, now, unless they intended for us to be on it.

Laura and Marion couldn't have been standing there staring at the giant ship for more than ten seconds when they were shoved from behind in the general direction of the ship. Then they were addressed at almost a growl. "Get moving, we don't have all night."

As they started moving in the direction of the great ship, a platoon of Kriegsmarines marched up and surrounded them. Their officer, a young looking lieutenant in a blue dress uniform, saluted Major Biberach and then gestured in the direction of the waiting gangway. With a curt nod, Biberach fell in step with the younger man. Immediately, the officer's men took up positions around Biberach's two henchmen and the two women and set a brisk pace after the officers.

They quickly covered the hundred feet from where the van had parked to the entrance to the gangway. The closer they approached, the more the battleship seemed to loom over them. Just as they reached the foot of the gangway and the officers paused for the traditional ceremonies performed before boarding a military ship, they felt as much as heard the deep rumbling as the first of three massive turbine engines was brought to life. A small plume of dark smoke rose from the single exhaust stack which extended almost eighty five feet above the main deck.

With the rituals required by etiquette complete, the party moved up the gangway. At the top, the group split into two. Two of the marines continued forward with the officers and the women while Biberach's men and the remainder of the marines headed aft. The smaller party quickly ascended several ladders and Laura knew their destination had to be the bridge.

The fourth ladder they climbed let out onto the passage leading directly to the wide, conning tower-spanning bridge. At least twenty officers and men were fully occupied with the process of preparing the great ship to get under way. But it wasn't the hustling men that absorbed Laura's and Marion's attention when they first stepped onto the bridge. No, it was the giant, life-size portrait of Adolf Hitler hanging on the rear bulkhead and the even more revealing, the adjacent large brass plaque with a stylized side view of the ship inscribed in gold with the name, S.S. Hitler.

As Laura continued to stare at the plaque with its ominous lettering, the ship's captain in a black jacket covered in ribbons and medals walked up to their small group. After a formal 'Sieg Heil' salute, he warmly stretched out his hand to Biberach. Speaking in crisp German with the distinctive old-school Prussian accent, he said. "Welcome aboard the Hitler, major. I assume this is your first visit?"

As soon as she heard the words, 'the Hitler', Laura experienced a dreadful sinking feeling in her gut. When Biberach had told his men back at the chateau to prepare to take the women to 'the Hitler', he had not been referring to Adolf Hitler, but rather this ship. This was so not good.

After returning the captain's greeting, Major Biberach turned to the women. "Captain Koenig, may I present Mrs. Jones and Miss Lang. They will be accompanying us on this little excursion."

Koenig gave the women a quick once over. The older woman, Mrs. Jones, was conservatively dressed in a dark brown skirt, jacket, and white blouse. The expression on her face seemed to be a combination of wariness, fear, and just a hint of panic. The younger woman, Miss Lang, was in a much more disheveled state. Her shoes were missing, her gray skirt was torn up the side almost to her waist, and she seemed to be covered in traces of blood from her feet up to her blouse. Looking at her face, Koenig saw a completely different expression than what hade been on the older woman's face. The girl's eyes were almost feverishly bright as they darted around the bridge. It looked like she was trying to memorize the function and position of every control in the room. Beyond that, there was no hint of fear or wariness in her face, just the calm expression he had seen many times back in the Great War before men went into battle: a readiness to do what ever it would take to win and survive. Koenig felt something he couldn't explain as he stared at the girl for an extra few seconds. Something about this young girl didn't quite ring true.

Finally, Captain Koenig gave a minimal nod of his head in the women's direction before turning his attention back to the Major to vent a little of his annoyance for the situation into which he had unexpectedly been thrust. "Major, I am not happy having women on board. It is extremely bad luck, particularly on a warship's maiden voyage."

"Captain, you know your orders in this matter come straight from the tribunal. Besides, surely superstitions like you mentioned went out of style at least a couple of centuries ago. This is the new third Reich and we live in the twentieth century, not the seventeenth."

The captain frowned. "Perhaps it is a 'silly' superstition, but I have been around ships my entire life and I know 'luck' is frequently real and important."

As the Captain was speaking, Laura felt the vibrations in the floor increase to the next higher magnitude as the second turbine engine was brought to life.

Biberach merely shook his head slightly at the Koenig's old fashioned attitude. Then he slowly led the group to the expansive windows looking out towards the prow of the ship. The large door which had been blocking the exit from the slip was almost completely retracted, exposing the countless lights of the surrounding city. "Captain, how long until we get underway?"

Koenig looked out over the forward portion of his mighty ship with pride. Even though he had been onboard for almost three months supervising the final details of the ship's construction and provisioning, he still experienced moments like this where it seemed almost impossible to believe he had been selected over so many others for the great honor of captaining the fatherland's latest, and by far its greatest, warship ever.

"Fifteen minutes, if you let me get back to my job."

Laura decided it was time for her to jump into the conversation if she hoped to get any additional information from these two.

"Beautiful ship, Captain. It is too bad though that Biberach decided to bring us along for your little shakedown cruise. Because I think your comments about having us women on board bringing bad luck is going to turn out to be one hundred percent true."

Koenig turned to look at the young girl beside him and then glanced over at Biberach and merely raised one eyebrow to silently ask the Major what the girl was talking about.

But before Biberach had a chance to speak, Laura continued. "Didn't anyone tell you about what happened back at the chateau and why the Major showed up here with his tail between his legs?" Laura didn't have any real information on what had happened back at the chateau after they had departed, but she remembered Clark's reaction back in Rome after she and Lana had been kidnapped. And nothing she had seen in the chateau looked anymore likely to stop Clark once he got on the warpath than what the Romans had been able to throw up against him. And the sudden look of fear in Biberach's eyes confirmed her suspicions; Clark must have fucked the place up pretty bad before he was convinced they were no longer there.

"Chateau?" asked Koenig, as though the word had no particular significance. Then his eyes widened slightly as he remembered the news. "You mean the one in Berlin which was destroyed last night when the cliff gave way and it collapsed into the Spree?"

Bingo, thought Laura. That sounded like her boy, Clark. Damn, she almost forgot for a moment that it wasn't her boy Clark anymore. No, he belonged to the other Chloe. But maybe, until they got back home, she could at least still pretend he was hers.

"Captain, my friends are extremely pissed at the Major. When they find him, no one standing close to him is going to be safe. And don't think for a minute this little toy boat is going to survive any longer against them than the chateau did."

"Toy boat?" echoed Koenig in an offended tone. "The Hitler is the most powerful battleship afloat. It can fire one thousand kilogram projectiles over twenty-two kilometers with pinpoint accuracy. Its armor belt is so thick it can withstand all known torpedoes. And it is just the first of a whole line of battleships which will return Germany to its lost glory. Look over there," and he pointed to the other side of the cavernous building. "Already the construction of the next great battleship, the Bismarck, is well underway."

"Whatever," Laura shrugged and then turned towards Biberach. "I tried to tell you to let us go last night, but did you listen? No. And look what it got you. Your chateau has been destroyed. You are on the run. Hell, your 'special' men are hardly a match for little old me, let alone my friends. Don't think this ship is going to protect you, it won't. It is still not too late. Just let us go and you might still survive."

Biberach looked at the girl and couldn't help feeling a little respect and a little fear. He had held her incommunicado since they had left the chateau, yet she had still managed to guess what had happened back there. And even he didn't full understand what had happened. How exactly had the chateau been destroyed? The whole cliff had collapse, but none of the survivors had reported hearing any explosions.

And then there was the girl herself. It was still a mystery how she had been able to hold her own against Hein and Frenkel during the fight back in the ballroom. And now she just stood there, on board this great ship surrounded by thousands of loyal sailors who would gladly give their lives for the fatherland, and continued to make threats like she had nothing to fear. She must be crazy.

But Biberach could see how everyone within earshot had paused in their work to listen in on the conversation. It wouldn't do to have the entire bridge crew, and via the grapevine the entire crew, wondering about the girl's comments, whether those comments turned out to be true or not. No, the crew needed to stay focused on their tasks, if they were to reach their destination on schedule.

Motioning the Kriegsmarine lieutenant forward, Biberach quickly commanded. "Lieutenant, please escort these women to their quarters."

The lieutenant looked at the women and then gestured in the direction of the exit. Without pausing, he led the way with his two subordinates bringing up the rear. As they walked, Laura kept swiveling her head from side to side, providing as much visual data for the 'bot network to chew on as she could. Hopefully, with enough data she would be able to come up with some kind of a plan, because the situation was much more desperate than she had let on to her captors.

After what seemed like at least a ten minute walk through numerous levels and past almost countless watertight bulkheads, they finally reached their destination. The room they were shown into wasn't actually in the brig, but it could just as well have been after the heavy watertight door was closed behind them and Laura heard the dogs being engaged on the other side. No way were they getting through the door by brute force. Clark doubtlessly could, but not her or Marion. And even if they could force the door open, there would be at least two of the marines stationed on the other side.

Laura didn't see any immediate solution to their situation, but she owed it to Lana and Marion to tell them the true predicament they were in. They had a right to know and maybe one of them would have some brilliant idea. A meeting of minds was definitely in order.

Marion's hand brushed past Lana's as she stepped into 'their' cabin. She had definitely had worst accommodations during her many travels, but on the other hand this cabin wasn't anywhere near the quality of the cabin she and Hank had enjoyed on the Normandie during their Atlantic crossing only weeks ago. And even that cabin on the Normandie had been only in second class.

Marion quickly scanned the room with its two bunks, two desks, small writing table, and, through an open doorway, their own private head. From the arrangement of the furniture, it seemed like they were somewhere in the lower end of officer's country, as no enlisted quarters would be equipped with two separate work desks. Actually, on second glance this room was a lot more spacious than the cabin they had during crossing. But it was the exposed pipes and painted rather than wood paneled surfaces which made this space feel so inferior to the liner's counterpart.

Marion walked over to the further bunk and was just turning to sit when she realized there were two other women in the room not just one. The second woman, who was leaning back against the door through which they had just entered, was a blonde she didn't immediately recognize. The young woman was dressed in some strange mockery or parody of Biberach's Gestapo uniform. The primary difference was the girl's uniform was a very pale green rather than black. And on further inspection the uniform had a strange shimmering texture and was so closely tailored to the girl's body as to look almost painted on. Before the girl even spoke, Marion suspected who she was, but how could she be in the cabin with them? Lana had said she only existed inside her head.

"Ah, ladies," began Laura as she looked over to where Lana and Marion stood almost on the far side of the cabin. "We have some things we need to discuss."

The voice confirmed Marion's suspicions; this girl was the Laura from Jaguar City. Although the girl could have walked past her on the street and she never would have suspected. Without a face covered in painted stripes and without the brilliantly dyed red hair, she looked completely different, but there was no mistaking the voice.

"How can you be here with us?" asked Marion. Then she turned her attention towards Lana. "I thought you said she only exists in your head. How can she be here with us now?"

Lana smiled at Marion and then walked over to the small table, pulled out one of the chairs and turned it to face both Laura and Marion before sitting down. "She is not really here."

Marion looked from Lana to Laura and then back to Lana. "She is standing right over there."

"Sorry, Marion," began Laura. "I thought you would be more comfortable if we chatted here in this cabin rather than somewhere exotic like Jaguar City. From the moment you brushed by Lana when you stepped into this room, everything you experienced has been in a virtual version of this room rather than the real version. At this moment in the 'real' world, you are both sitting and touching hands on the other bunk. I am not sure if the Nazis have bugged this room so it seemed best to talk where we couldn't be overheard."

Marion's head almost seemed to spin as she tried to keep track of what was going on. Were they really in a virtual copy of the exact room they had just entered? What was real and what was not real anymore? She was starting to regret ever having met these kids from the future.

Lana could read the unhappy expression on Marion's face without even having to bother with reading her thoughts through the mind-link. They were throwing things at her too fast for someone who didn't grow up in the twenty-first century with constant exposure to life-like video games or movies like 'The Matrix' or 'Star Trek' or even the ancient 'Tron'. No, if they weren't going to overwhelm her, they needed to get the conversation back to things in the real world. And doubtlessly, there must be an important reason Laura felt it was necessary to include Marion in this conversation.

Lana turned her attention to Laura, who still stood over by the door dressed in her little spandex uniform. It was kind of cute on her, but a conservative skirt might have been a more tactful choice.

"Laura, what is it you wanted to talk about?" asked Lana.

As Lana watched, Laura seemed to pause to take a deep breathe. "Which would you prefer first, the bad news or the really bad news?"

No good news and bad news, just all bad news, thought Lana. Fuck.

"Let's start with the bad news," suggested Lana.

"Okay, the bad news is that the guys are not coming to save us because I sent them to the wrong place."

Both Marion and Lana frowned, but it was Marion who spoke up first. "How could you have sent them to the wrong place? How could you have even talked to them, if you only exist in Lana's head?"

Laura pulled out a chair from the desk nearest her and sat down. "If you think things have been difficult to follow so far, it is about to get worst.

"As Lana mentioned back in Jaguar City, I am thousands and thousands of years old. The events which split me from my 'real' self and trapped me in Lana's body won't happen until the year 2002. However since I am very old means that I was alive back here in 1936, too. Of course, the version of me living now has no knowledge of events that will occur almost seventy years in my future.

"Anyway, in case of an emergency like this, where Lana has been separated from the guys, she left them directions how to reach me since I happened to be living Dresden, only a hundred miles away from Berlin."

"So the guys really did contact you?" asked Lana.

"Yeah, actually, they were down in Dresden this afternoon talking to me. Now that it is in the past, I think it is safe to tell you."

Marion's eyes looked a little glazed over as she tried to understand. "You're living in Dresden?"

Laura looked over to Marion and patiently tried once more to explain. "I was born before the last ice age. I lived through the times of ancient Egypt. I lived through the ancient American civilization you saw in Jaguar City. I lived through the Roman Empire. I lived through the Black Death and the dark times of the middle ages. I lived through the Italian Renaissance. I lived through the French revolution. I lived through the American civil war. I lived through the Great War here in Europe. Today, in 1936, I am living in Dresden where I own a camera factory. And I am married with two children. My husband just happens to be the head of the Gestapo for the Saxony region, which gives me access to a lot of classified information."

"Laura, you are married here?" asked Lana. "Chloe never included that in the information she passed on to me."

Laura shrugged. "She, ah I, was not trying to keep secrets from you, but it seemed like some of the details of my life should be private. At least until times like this where they have a direct bearing on the current situation."

"Okay," agreed Lana. "But what did you mean the guys aren't coming and that you sent them to the wrong place?"

"Clark and Whitney came to my home and were able to convince me they were from the future and that they needed my help to find you. All they were able to give me to go on was Major Biberach's name and the fact that you and Marion disappeared from the chateau over the Spree River which had been destroyed the night before.

"I was able to access the records at the local Gestapo office through my connections to my husband. But I couldn't find any information on where Biberach had gone after leaving the chateau. The best I could do was pass along information on where the headquarters of his branch of the Gestapo was located and hope you had been taken there."

"Which is where?" asked Lana.

"Over a hundred and fifty miles east of here."

"You mean you know where we are?" asked Marion and Lana almost simultaneously.

"I suspected as soon as we exited the van and saw the ships, but I only knew for certain when the captain named the other ship under construction to be the Bismarck. We are in the Blohm and Voss shipyards in Hamburg."

"And where exactly did you send the guys?" asked Lana.

"Peenemunde."

Peenemunde. The name sounded vaguely familiar to Lana, but that was all. Quickly, she fired off a query into her 'bot database and instantly the information was clear in her head as though she had just finished watching a two hour special on the Discovery Channel.

First, she saw a desolate sandy beach along the coast of the Baltic Sea. Then the view slide a little further along to the coast to a massive industrial complex. And then a series of movie clips of V-1 buzz bombs being launched and V-2 rockets taking off. Finally a photo of Werner van Braun leading a bunch of ranking German Army officers on a tour.

Peenemunde, the research facility where all of the futuristic German weapons were designed, developed, and tested.

"Shit," was all Lana could say when she understood what the single word Peenemunde meant. Laura had unknowingly sent Clark, Whitney, and Indy on a wild goose chase to the most secret, secure facility in all of Nazi Germany.

"Yeah, shit is right," concurred Laura.

Marion looked from one girl to the other having no idea what the significance was of this place called Peenemunde. However, before she had a chance to ask, Lana asked a question which took the conversation into a new direction.

"Laura, what about this ship? I never heard of a battleship called the Hitler and I don't find any information about it in the 'bot database."

"Well, that brings up the very bad news I mentioned earlier."

Laura paused for a moment and then waved her hand through the air for a moment like a magician and as if by magic, glasses of wine appeared on desk or table tops near each of the three women. Laura raised her glass to her lips and took a small sip.

"Whitney and Clark never mentioned any connection with the name Hitler when they came to see me. It was only later, after the last time I talked to them, that I heard about this ship. And then it was only referred to as a secret prototype Battleship, but never by the name of the Hitler. Of course, if I had been in the shoes of the leaders of the German Navy, I probably wouldn't have ever associated the name Hitler with this ship again either."

Laura took another sip of her wine before continuing.

"I never made the connection between this ship and events involving Clark and Whitney when I was back in 1936. So when Biberach mentioned 'the Hitler' back at the chateau, I thought just like you that he was referring to Adolf Hitler. But now that I know he was referring to this ship, things are clearer."

"Laura," interrupted Lana. "Just spit it out. What is the really bad news?"

Laura looked Lana in the eyes. "I don't know any of the details, only that this ship is lost at sea sometime during its maiden voyage. If you somehow lost a ship named after your glorious leader on its very first mission, you can understand why the whole situation was hushed up and never mentioned in any of the history books. The Nazis had illegally and secretly built a battleship which violated the Versailles Treaty and then it was somehow destroyed before they ever publicly admitted it even existed."

Lana and Marion sat there staring at Laura in stunned silence for almost a minute.

"Fuck," said Lana, finally.

"Yeah," responded Laura. "We are stuck on a death ship and the guys are not coming to rescue us. If we are going to get out of this alive, we are going to have to do it on our own."

As Laura finished speaking, both she and Lana realized that in the 'real' world, the mighty propellers had just started to turn and the ship was moving, taking them out to sea.

End of Chapter 13

Author's Notes:

Well, it has been a while since I ended a chapter with a big cliffie. So I decided, what the hell, let's see how much danger I could create.

Kaya Jade –

I hope this answers your question about what happened to Lana and Marion. I got so wrapped up in Clark's side of the story, I almost forgot it has been several chapters since we have seen much of the girls.

Raven –

Thanks for the history comments, but at the moment the story is taking place in the last week of August 1936, so the events in the Rhineland had taken place 4-5 months earlier. Plus, until an actual shooting war breaks out in Poland in 1939, Aubrey could freely come and go from Germany to any other country. If would be different if she was a Jew or of Romany descent, but in this story she is not. Being a business owner and married to a German military officer meant there was very little personal risk to her staying in Germany during the turbulent late 1930's years.

HemisH –

Thanks for the kind comments. Certainly, something unique is what I am striving for. Between the comics, the movies, and the tv shows, there are a lot of different, conflicting versions of the Clark Kent/Superman story, so why not add my own vision? Besides, there are plenty of people out there telling the TV episodes over and over, so who needs one more? This story will eventually get back to Smallville but the more I think about it, the less likely it seems that I will use anything from future episodes of the show unless it really adds something valuable to my story. I hope the readers like that when you get a new chapter from me, you will have no idea what I am going to do.

I have also read a bunch of the other Smallville stories on this site. One of the big differences I have noticed is that a lot of people writing Smallville seem to like dreary, angst-driven stories. Personally, my tastes run towards fun, upbeat stories which is what I try to write. Angst like all other emotions has its place, but it is best kept to small doses.

Ghostdraconi –

Since Chloe and Clark seem all powerful, I guess I am going to have to bump up the caliber of the challenge another notch. Hmmm, the girls trapped on a German battleship and the guys heading to Peenemunde, it looks like it is already happening. One of my favorite movies from last year was 'Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow'. I think we might see a little tribute to the style and flavor of that movie in the upcoming chapters.

To everyone else who sent a review, a big THANK YOU, they are always appreciated.

Until next time,

Duane


	14. Biological Families Chapter 14

Biological Families

Author: duane at duaneaakre dot com

Disclaimer: As always I own nothing. Well I own a house, two cars, a pair of jetskis, and a lot of other junk, but none of these characters.

Story Rating: R The story may drift into the HBO range rather than stay in the WB range, so to be on the safe side, I am rating this R.

Chapter 14

Part 1

Clark dropped the phone's handset back onto its old fashioned base. For a moment he stared blankly as he tried to plan a course of action. But before he reached any final decisions, his thoughts were interrupted by Whitney.

"Well, Clark, what did she say? Did she find out where Lana and Marion are?"

Whitney's combination of impatience at the enforced wait and eagerness to use his new-found superhuman strength was really starting to get on Clark's nerves. Clark wanted to snap at him, 'If I knew where they were, I wouldn't still be standing here.' But Clark managed to bite his tongue as he shook his head.

"She couldn't find any trace of Major Biberach or the girls since the events back at the chateau. The best she was able to do was to find the headquarters of the special 'Todeshauptgottnachfolger' branch of the Gestapo of which Biberach is a member. But there is no guarantee Biberach has gone there," answered Clark with another shake of his head. If there had been a guarantee they were there, he would have followed his initial impulse to race there and search for them. But he had tried that once before back at the Praetorian Camp in ancient Rome and it had only made matters worse. From the little bits he had gotten from Chloe after the fact, the scare his attack had put into Venta had only accelerated his actions. If Clark hadn't destroyed the fort in such a spectacular fashion, they might have had more time to find Chloe and Lana before their torture began. No, this time he was not going to go into 'full-on frontal attack' mode until he was certain where Lana and Marion were.

"Clark, where is this headquarters?" asked Whitney. "If it is our only lead, we need to check it out. If records exist anywhere showing where Biberach has taken them, it will be there."

As Clark looked at Whitney, he could see Indy nodding his agreement in the background.

Before answering, Clark paused to glance around the room one more time. They were sitting in the main lounge of the Olympic Village 'house' Clark and Whitney were sharing with fourteen other members of the American track and field team. At the moment, the room was empty except for the four of them. There was no telling how long this fortunate coincidence would continue as teammates had been wandering in and out in groups of two and three all morning. Glancing at the ornate German cuckoo clock adorning the far wall, Clark noticed it was already eleven fifteen and knew the lunchtime rush was less than thirty minutes away. If they were going to discuss this situation here anytime in the next three hours, it had best be now.

"Peenemunde. She said the headquarters is at Peenemunde."

Indy and Gretchen stared at Clark without a hint of comprehension of the significance of that word showing in their faces. But like any post-second world war school boy, Whitney's face showed instant understanding. His face seemed to turn slightly pale as he let out a loud exclamation.

"Shit."

Gretchen stared at Whitney, surprised by the vehemence of his response. She still had clear memories of visiting Peenemunde with her Dad when she was eight and couldn't understand why hearing the name of that seaside resort would cause such a strong reaction.

Fortunately, the past day and a half of constant exposure to English had greatly improved her fluency and confidence after years of little use. "I don't understand. The only Peenemunde I know is a simple little resort village on the Baltic coast."

"You've been there?" asked Clark with a look of surprise. Although the surprise was more due to Gretchen's entry into the conversation than the possibility she had personal knowledge of that site. Her eyes were still red and swollen from crying, but for the first time in at least a day she was actually taking an interest in what was going on.

Gretchen nodded. "Eight years ago. With . . . with my father."

Clark nodded and then sighed. Gretchen had slowly explained parts of her story, as she became more comfortable with the guys and the reality of her situation truly sank in. Now it looked like they were going to have to reopen her wounds before they even had a chance to heal.

Gretchen's father, Herr Professor Josef Unger, was an archaeologist, who Indy had actually met at a conference in Lisbon back in 1930. Professor Unger, it turned out, was the one who had recovered the Samson braids four years earlier. While Unger was affiliated with the University of Berlin, like Indy, his work took him all over the world. As a result of his travels and the fact Gretchen's mother had died many years earlier, Gretchen had spent much of her youth attending a private boarding school in Berlin.

Gretchen hadn't heard of the Samson braids until three days earlier when the Gestapo had shown up at her school and dragged her away. It wasn't until she arrived at the chateau and found her father being tortured that she learned the truth. Her father had discovered medieval records of the braids in a secret subterranean chamber below the old Hospitaller's Cathedral to St. John at Valetta on the island of Malta. These documents had described how the braids been returned in 1446 to their ancient resting place in a hidden cave in the Valley of Sorek in what in the nineteen thirties would be Palestine. After retrieving them from the Middle East, Unger had turned them over to the antiquities museum at the university. With the Nazi rise to power, the braids had been removed for 'the greater glory of the third Reich'. Now, three years later, the Nazis had returned to the Professor in search of additional information they thought he possessed about the braids.

When he had not responded to threats against himself, they had snatched his daughter for additional leverage. But when they had brought Gretchen into the same room with her father to show him they meant business, he had made a grab for one of the guards' guns. In the ensuing struggle the gun had gone off and Gretchen's father had been killed.

It hadn't taken long for the Nazis to discover Gretchen knew nothing about the Samson braids. But she now had learned too much from them to simply be released, so they had decided to use her for the upcoming black mass to their patron dark god. It was during this sacrificial rite that Clark had found and rescued her. During the ensuing excitement of the destruction of the chateau, she hadn't had time to dwell on the loss of her father. But later, during the ride back to the Olympic Village, the reality of her situation finally had time to sink in.

With her father dead, her only choices were to stay with Clark, Whitney, and Indy, or return to her school. But if she returned to her school, there was a high probability of another attempt on her life by the Nazis. So, for the moment, the sixteen year old girl had no choice but to remain with the guys. Not that she minded. No, these guys had somehow managed to destroy that whole evil chateau and they seemed to be on a path to wreak further havoc on the Nazis who had killed her father.

"I am afraid the small village you remember is long gone," began Clark. He glanced over at Indy for a moment. He was still leery of giving Indy too much information about the future. Thinking it over, Clark decided it was best to stick with the 'secret agent' cover story for the present. "The American government has been monitoring the Nazi activities in that area for several years. Because of its isolated location right on the coast, the Nazis have turned Peenemunde into their premier site for the development of futuristic weapons. They are working on new long-range rockets and revolutionary airplane designs. The coastal location is ideal for their purposes because it allows them to do flight testing out over the sea without over flying any populated areas where they would be noticed. The United States does much the same thing except with all of the open space in the American west, they have been able to cordon off large tracts of land in Nevada and New Mexico for their flight test needs.

"Anyway, getting back to Peenemunde, because of the nature of the work they are doing there, it has the highest level of security of any facility in Germany."

Whitney snorted. "Big deal. So they have a bunch of security. So what? Let's just walk up to the front entrance and if they won't give the girls back, we can just bust it down and search for them."

"Whitney," began Clark trying to keep his temper in check by reminding himself that Whitney hadn't been present when they had gone through the similar situation back in ancient Rome. "We don't know if the girls are there. If they aren't, we are going to need some time to search their records. I have tried the 'smash down the front door and act like you own the place' approach before, but it ultimately only made matters worse. No, I think we need to come up with a stealthy method of infiltrating that base so we will have time to gather as much data as we can before we are noticed."

"Clark, the clock is ticking. I don't know that we have time for an elaborate plan," interjected Indy.

Clark looked at Indy. "Okay. I think we should just head up there and see the lay of the land. If necessary, I am not opposed to smashing down the back door of the base instead of the front one. Certainly, if the facility is as extensive as my information indicates, there must be some lightly guarded places where we should be able to slip through."

Indy nodded. "I agree. The truck we 'borrowed' from the chateau should blend in with traffic around a military facility. I don't know where this Peenemunde is, so we will have to pick up a map, but any spot on the Baltic coast should be less than a four hour drive from here. If the three of us start soon, we should be there by late afternoon. That will give us a couple of hours of daylight to scout around and then we can make our move as soon as it gets dark."

"What do you mean the three of us? What about me?" asked Gretchen.

Indy looked at her. "This is going to be very dangerous and you have been through enough already. It would be safest if you wait here."

"What's the real issue?" asked Gretchen with a bit of an edge creeping into her voice. "Is it because I am a girl? Or is it because I am only sixteen? What about Clark?" She paused to give his face another once over. "How old is he? He doesn't look any older than the guys in my grade at school. And Clark and Whitney can't even speak the language. If you're going up there to look for paperwork to track down your friends, how are you going to be able to read it or even recognize what you are looking for? You need me. And I want to help."

When Gretchen finally wound down, Clark couldn't help but realize she was right. They really could use another person who spoke the language. He just wished they had some way to give her an edge like the Samson braids did for Whitney and Indy. Well, he was just going to have to make sure he stayed close to her.

"Okay, you can come along, at least until we get close and see what the situation looks like."

Gretchen smiled. She would find some way to make the Gestapo bastards pay for what had happened to her father. If only Clark hadn't rescued so many of them from the chateau, then the remaining score to be settled wouldn't be nearly so high.

Quickly, Gretchen bounced to her feet. "What are we still sitting around for? Let's get moving!"

The three men quietly rose to their feet and followed the girl out the door.

+ - + - + - + - + - + - + - +

Part 2

Lana awoke early their first morning at sea to the sound of the klaxon announcing the dawn shift-change for the crew. The large battleship was still tossing and rolling, as it had most of the night, as it proceeded through the rough North Sea waters at high speed.

The beginning of the voyage had been so smooth by comparison. Of course, the first three hours had been spent cruising down the last fifty miles of the Elbe River, which connected Hamburg to the North Sea. No river could ever develop the large waves common in open water and because of the abundant traffic on the river, the mighty ship's speed had been constrained to a mere fourteen knots.

But once they had reached the sea, the storm-driven waves had become very pronounced while their speed had been increased to twenty-eight knots, very near the ship's top speed. Wherever they were going, they certainly were in a hurry to get there.

All night they had pounded their way north through the heavy seas. It was shortly after the dawn bells had awoken her that her 'bot system confirmed their course was swinging towards the east. When she asked the 'bot system for an estimate of the ship's position, she instantly received the mental image of a map of northern Europe centered on Denmark, which occupied the large peninsula on the northern boundary of Germany and stuck well north into the Northern Sea. Overlaid on the map was a dotted line of the estimated ship's route just like something out of an old Second World War naval movie. The course line had started out sharp, narrow, and dark at Hamburg. The further along the line she looked, the dimmer and wider the line became. Without even feeling the question fully form in her head, the 'bot system provided the explanation of how the wider line was intended to represent the growing uncertainty in the estimated position based on the limited data.

Even allowing for the current thirty-eight mile radius of uncertainty in their position, it was clear they would soon be nearing the northern tip of Denmark. Just out of curiosity, Lana asked the 'bot system to highlight the location of Peenemunde. Quickly a bright red swastika accompanied by the word 'Peenemunde' in bold type began pulsating on the northern coast of Germany well east of the Danish peninsula. In fact, it was almost due north of Berlin.

As Lana stared at the mental map, she realized the only logical reason for their current eastward change in direction was to swing around the tip of Denmark and then to turn south between Denmark and Sweden for the Baltic Sea. Of course, heading towards the Baltic Sea also meant they were heading in the general direction of Peenemunde. What if Peenemunde was their destination? What if the guys hadn't entirely been sent on a wild goose chase?

Lana asked the 'bot system to add a plot with hourly time markings if they took the shortest route from their current position to Peenemunde and if they maintained their current speed. Almost instantly the dashed line extended through the large mass of islands between Denmark and Sweden before sweeping on to Peenemunde with an arrival time of eleven forty-five that evening.

Lana couldn't help but grin to herself for a moment. This was so cool. She had never tried to use her 'bot system for anything quite like this before. As she remembered that the existence of this ship was supposed to be a secret and that they had intentionally waited until after dark to leave the security of the construction site, she realized her currently projected course passed too near land in broad daylight, particularly during the passage through the Langelandsbaell Strait between the Langeland and Lolland islands. So she next asked the 'bot system to plot a new best speed course that never came within twenty miles of land during daylight hours.

The new course took several alternate channels between the islands and slowed the ship from twenty-eight knots to thirteen knots between noon and four in the afternoon. It also delayed their arrival time at Peenemunde from roughly midnight until about dawn of the next day. So, if her guess about their destination was correct, they should get their first indication around noon when the ship should greatly reduce its speed. That would also be a sign they would then have eighteen hours to make their escape, because she suddenly just knew in her gut that their arrival at Peenemunde would signal the ship's destruction.

Wanting to get a second opinion, Lana glanced over to where Marion was still sleeping in the other bunk. She quickly decided to let her sleep. Waking her wouldn't help them out of their current dilemma. No, if they were going to escape, it was going to be up to her to make something happen. Well, perhaps there was someone besides Marion she could turn to.

'Laura,' she mentally called out.

Seemingly before the thought was fully formed in her head, Laura was standing beside her. As Lana glanced at her, she discovered Laura had swapped the green spandex uniform of the night before for a dark blue variation of the uniform the sailors were wearing. However, Lana thought, none of the sailors she had seen were wearing an extremely short miniskirt in place of the customary pants.

When she looked away from Laura, she noticed the map of northern Europe now appeared to be floating in space in the middle of the room like the image on a giant plasma TV.

Gesturing towards the map, Lana remarked. 'I think we are heading towards Peenemunde.'

Laura grinned. 'I was watching when you were experimenting with the map. And I agree. It seems like the probability is getting higher that Peenemunde is our destination.'

'If this ship is destined to be destroyed, I have a strong feeling it will happen when we get there. We need to do something to get free by then; being locked in this room doesn't feel like a good idea."

Laura nodded and was about to speak when they heard a rapping on the door and then saw the dogs securing it begin to rotate.

'I think it is time we start the official 'Lana and Laura' Adoration Society. Of course, we will only accept the most fanatical members who will gladly sacrifice their lives at our slightest whim. And I think the first candidates for the club have just arrived. Would you do me the honor of letting me drive, so I can administer the initiation test?' asked Laura with a wicked little grin.

Lana stared at Laura for a moment. She had no idea what Laura was talking about, as she had missed the discussion between Laura, Chloe, Lex, and Clark back in Rome after the events in the arena where Chloe had described how she used her gift to subjugate an entire empire. However she knew this was one of those times she was going to have to trust in Laura's far greater experience. Therefore she quickly nodded her concurrence.

The virtual version of their cabin quickly dissolved to be replaced by the real one as Laura assumed control of Lana's body. Keeping her head turned towards the door, Laura took a couple of steps back to give these visitors plenty of room to enter without feeling uncomfortably crowded; she needed them well inside the room if things were going to work.

Two sailors entered through the now open door. The first, carrying a covered tray of food, was very young looking, hardly older than Lana. The second was much older and had the feel of a man who had spent most of his adult life at sea. Neither was armed although Laura wasn't sure if that was because they didn't perceive the women as a serious threat, or if because they were well out to sea they didn't see what two women could do if they managed to get free of the cabin, or if they were afraid that if they carried guns the prisoners might grab the weapons and try to cause trouble. Whatever the reason for their unarmed state, Laura knew it would make the next few seconds easier.

"What's on the menu, guys?" asked Laura in German. Catching the eye of the younger sailor, she tilted her head to the side and put an expression on her face that seemed to say 'I am just a helpless young girl. I have no idea why I have been brought here.' Finally she forced a small smile onto her face and continued with, "I'm starving."

After a quick flick of his eyes towards his companion, the younger sailor returned her smile as he set the tray down on the table. "The cook who runs the galley for the officers' mess is very good." With a flourish he lifted the cover way from the large tray. "I think you will like this."

"It certainly smells good," said Laura as she took a couple of steps closer to peer passed the sailor's shoulder. The tray contained two servings of scrambled eggs with sausage, freshly baked pastries, and a small pot of rich German coffee. But what Laura was really focused on was the cutlery. The set included a couple of reasonably sharp looking knives.

"Oh, I am dying for my morning coffee," said Laura before stretching her right arm in the direction of the coffee pot. At the last second, when the younger sailor's body was mostly blocking the older man's view of her, she twisted her hand around and delivered three quick jabs of her index and middle fingers to the man's throat. The move had been called the 'An-slak-wu' when it had been developed back in ancient Lemuria, but these days she just thought of it as her own personal 'Vulcan nerve-pinch' since it had the same effect.

Quickly, as the younger sailor slumped unconscious to the floor, Laura picked up one of the knives and threw it hard at the older man's throat. Oh, she didn't want him dead, at least not permanently, but she needed them both silent and incapacitated long enough to get the door closed before they were discovered. As she rushed passed the older man she saw her aim had been true, the knife had penetrated his windpipe to prevent him from calling out, but had missed the main juggler veins. Good, she needed them free of visible blood stains when their 'initiation' was complete.

When the door was once again secure, Laura walked back over to the table and picked up the second knife. As she returned to where the older sailor lay on the deck weakly pawing at the knife protruding from his throat, she calmly used the blade of her knife to tear open a jagged wound in her left palm. Kneeling down beside the man, Laura set aside her own blade and with a quick jerk pulled the knife from his throat. She watched his eyes as she quickly slapped her bleeding hand down on his gaping wound. At first there was panic from what had been done to him. Then, as the knife was removed, a brief wave of relief passed through his eyes as though the removal of the weapon meant he would survive. Finally, four seconds after the initial contact of Laura's hand with his wound, his eyes abruptly went blank.

As she watched his eyes go blank, a quote from John Stuart Mill surfaced from the depths of her enhanced memory. _'Whatever crushes individuality is despotism, by whatever name it may be called.' _It had been a very long time since she had used her gift in this manner. Oh, she had on occasion needed to use her 'bots for a short, brief interrogation, but that was a lot different from using them to enforce her will on another individual. And for at least the next twenty-four hours that is just what she was going to have to do, force this man and probably many others to do her bidding. She tried to console herself that it was necessary to get Lana and Marion out of this situation and that she would try to save as many men as was possible from whatever fate was about to befall this vessel. But she secretly knew her biggest fear was the risk to her own soul and sanity. Taking control of others was for her the ultimate addiction; an addiction she had once let run wild for centuries. She only hoped this time she could keep it under control.

Knowing her last opportunity to choose another course had passed when she had first struck the younger sailor, she forced herself to put her worries away and focus on what needed to be done. However she did take a moment to use her 'bots to close the man's eyes before she began plumbing his memories, his dreams, and his nightmares to find the most effective way to coerce his mind.

+ - + - + - + - + - + - +

Obermaat Peter Mausenhoff had never been particularly religious. Oh, he had been brought up Lutheran and had attended church with his mother every Sunday when he was growing up. But since joining the Navy twenty years earlier, he had rarely attended services. Well, that wasn't strictly true. No, after he had joined up in 1916 and completed the naval training course in 1917, he had seen almost eighteen months of sea duty before the Great War ended. And during that period, he had always attended the available religious services when they anticipated battle. But since the war ended, the peace and comfort they brought hadn't felt as necessary.

But as he suddenly came awake, he didn't at first understand why he had this feeling he should have made religion a more important part of his former life. Former life? Abruptly the events back in the prisoners' cabin flooded back. The knife penetrating his throat. Collapsing to the deck. The young dark hair girl leaning over him and pulling the knife out. Then his vision had slowly grayed out until everything had gone dark.

Was he dead? He reached up to his throat but couldn't find a single trace of any injury. With relief he sat up and tried to take in his surroundings and that was when the terror truly began to sink in.

He was no longer in the cabin or even on the ship. He was lying on a vast plain that stretched as far as he could see in every direction. And somehow he just knew he was seeing not the normal few miles to the horizon like in any everyday meadow or pasture, but rather he was seeing for hundreds, no, thousands of miles in every direction. All of it was barren land, no trees or bushes, only pale gray dirt. And nothing broke the uncanny silence, no animals, no birds, no insects, not even a whisper of a breeze.

Then he looked up to the brilliant sky he had originally mistaken for the bright lights of the cabin. At first it seemed like the sky was a uniform bright white from the impossibly distant horizon in one direction to the equally distant horizon in the opposite direction. But after a few seconds his eyes began to adjust to the overwhelmingly bright light and he began to discern tiny black dots scattered throughout the sky. After staring at a particular section of the sky for awhile, he realized the twinkling black specks were stars. It was like the whole sky in this strange place was a photo-negative of a real night sky, the stars were black and the sky was white. What could this possibly mean?

Lowering his gaze from these anti-stars, he once more gazed out about him. All directions looked equally the same. For lack of anything better to do, he picked a direction at random and started walking. He walked and walked. It could have been minutes or hours or days. But every time he paused and looked around, nothing had changed. He left no trail in the dirt and the horizon always looked the same in all directions. Perhaps his legs were churning but he wasn't even moving at all.

Finally, he just slumped to the ground and tried to think. What was this place? How had he gotten here? The last thing he remembered before awakening here was the knife in his throat. Was he dead? Was this hell or purgatory or oblivion? He should have paid more attention in church to what they said came after death because whatever this place was, it wasn't at all what he expected of heaven.

Time passed slowly or perhaps it didn't pass at all as he sat there. With nothing else to do, he thought about his life. He had never done anything particularly bad, certainly nothing worthy of being sent to hell. But then he had to admit, he hadn't done anything particularly good either to earn himself a place in heaven.

More time passed. It could have been hours or centuries. He never noticed or wondered why he didn't grow hungry and didn't seem to need any sleep. He just existed.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, the sound of an impossibly loud bell broke the eternal silence of the endless plain. Each peal of the bell seemed to make the very ground shake as he was forced to cover his ears with his hands. Endlessly the giant invisible bell tolled, making his head throb painfully in unison.

When the sound of the bell stopped, he didn't at first notice because the ground continued to shake. Then the shaking became more and more violent until he was bouncing around like the time his destroyer had passed through the hurricane back in '28. But this was dry ground, not an ocean. At least it seemed like dry ground until he managed to lever himself high enough to briefly see into the distance and saw how the land was rolling in giant waves just like the waves in an ocean.

Abruptly, the earth stopped moving and for an instant silence returned. But only for a moment, then the silence was broken by an unearthly howling sound like the reanimated dead made in a horror film. Only this was much more intense and terrifying; it was as though millions of dead had suddenly awakened in their graves. As that thought formed in his head, the ground started shaking again, only this time it was different. It sounded like something was trying to force its way up from below.

As his eyes darted around the immediate area, he saw small local piles of dirt being pushed up from the previously flat terrain. Then he saw the claw-like hands start to push up into the open. Then arms. Then tops of heads. Then shoulders and upper torsos. Then a voice started screaming in his head, 'The dead are rising. The dead are rising. THE DEAD ARE RISING!'

He tried to scramble away only to find the dead were rising around him in all directions. And it was happening as far as his eyes could see. His initial guess of millions suddenly seemed low; there must be hundreds of millions, maybe billions of dead clawing their way free from the earth. My god, he thought, is everyone who has ever died rising right here and now?

His heart was pounding in his chest so hard he was sure it was going to explode. Then the impossible happened and the pounding of his heart went up even another notch as the nearest figure turned towards him. It was his mother's corpse. And she was still wearing the same dark brown dress they had buried her in after she died during the great influenza epidemic of '21. Then just beyond his mother he saw his sister, Helga, who had died that same year. And there was his uncle Heinrich, who had died in the trenches, still wearing the tattered remains of his uniform. And beyond him more and more figures rose from their graves that he knew: family, friends, and shipmates. Was this the end of time? Was this Judgment Day? Why didn't he know and understand more?

He turned back to the vacant, decaying face of his mother.

"Mother?" he whispered. Then he gathered his meager remaining store of courage, he repeated it louder and louder.

"Mother. Mother. Mother. MOTHER. **MOTHER**!"

But no matter how desperately he needed a response, none came. Perhaps she couldn't hear. Perhaps she couldn't speak. She just stood there; her face lifted to the endless white sky.

Then, so softly he wasn't sure he heard it, she said, "She comes."

And slowly the chant was taken up by others, "She comes."

More and more joined in until the plain was filled with millions of dead voices all endlessly repeating, "She comes."

Like thunder the words rolled back and forth across the endless plain. "She comes." Who were they speaking of, he wondered. "She comes." The voices didn't sound jubilant or fear-stricken, merely relieved that the eternal, endless waiting was finally over. "She comes."

Slowly, the voices of the dead were overwhelmed by a new more powerful sound. Like an ocean-sized waterfall, the roaring sound increased to an unbelievable magnitude. It seemed to be coming from everywhere at once, but mostly from above.

He looked up into the brilliant white sky, but at first couldn't see anything. Then slowly he made out an infinitesimal golden speck in the glare of the negative sky. Gradually the speck grew as the object ever so majestically descended.

Eventually, the speck resolved itself into a golden throne, the most ornate object ever imagined. And surrounding it was a cloud of weaving, darting jewels, which he instantly knew was an assemblage of angels. Angels singing her praise in the most beautiful voices he had ever heard. It should have been impossible to hear their voices over the continued chanting of the dead and the roar of the throne's descent, but all three infinitely loud sounds could be heard simultaneously.

The throne continued its descent until it almost seemed to fill half the sky. It was clearly miles tall and sized for the one and only true God. The angels, too, began to resolve into individual beings and they were more dazzlingly radiant than anything a mere human could imagine. Each one of them seemed to be at least one thousand feet tall as they swooped down over the assembled dead before circling back to the golden throne next to which they looked as insignificant as gnats.

Finally, less then ten miles above the plain, the throne paused in its descent. Its occupant leaned forward ever so slightly, but all he could see was a glare of gold brighter than the noon-day sun and he found it impossible to force his eyes to look directly at it. Instead his eyes tried to dart anywhere else. At least until the words began to issue forth, although they seemed to spring straight from the center of his soul rather than from any mouth.

_**+-+Judgment Day is at hand. Prepare to have your life and soul measured. Those few found worth will spend all of eternity with me in heaven. The rest will be sent to the everlasting torment of the hell below.+-+**_

At this last pronouncement, the wail which arose from the waiting dead was more terrifying than anything he had yet imagined. But until this moment he never had even the faintest inkling of what heaven and hell could really be. Now he understood to the depths of his soul. And he was truly afraid.

Then an angelic voice called out, "Eva Lueckenhoff."

And immediately from the golden throne a single powerful decisive word rolled out, **_+-+ARISE.+-+_**

To the fanfare of ten thousand angelic trumpets, one of the dead in the distance burst forth with a light almost as radiant as the angels. Quickly the mortal body was consumed and the spirit of the woman ascended up into the heavens like a shooting star.

"Franz Klein," rolled out across the plain, as the angelic voice announced the next name.

**_+-+DESCEND+-+_** was the pronouncement from the throne.

The horror-stricken word, "Nooooooooooo," seemed to have barely started to echo across endless plain when one of the dead burst into flame. The body twisted and turned in agony for a moment before the ground below it abruptly opened up and fifty or a hundred pairs of hands and arms rose into view to drag their victim down.

"Paulina Schwarz," was the next name called out, almost before the previous unlucky soul had disappeared from view.

**_+-+DESCEND+-+ _**was the immediate response.

And so it continued for seemingly endless hours, one after another. At most, only one in one thousand of the dead was being given permission to arise. But it was enough to keep the faintest spark of hope alive in him and all of the gathered dead.

More hours or days passed as the reading of the roll of life continued, yet so vast was the multitude, the crowd seemed hardly to thin. Although the golden throne seemed to demand almost his full attention as he waited his turn, he eventually couldn't help but notice that no one standing near him had yet been called to judgment. Then just as this fact seemed to register in his numb mind, he heard it.

"Peter Mausenhoff!"

In the fraction of a second that passed while he waited for God's judgment, his meager life once more flashed through his mind. As the key moments flashed by, he couldn't help but wonder if this wasn't God's method of reviewing his life and accomplishments. Had all of the other dead experienced this when their names were called?

After the moment seemed to have stretched on for an eternity, he felt the word of GOD.

_**+-+ Peter Mausenhoff, your soul and those of your family and friends hang in the balance. I am giving you one last opportunity to earn entry into heaven. One of my earthly followers needs your support. Do all that is asked of you, even if it requires the sacrifice of your life, and your family's place at my side is assured. +-+ **_

Then a million trumpets blared and the angels all rejoiced by singing 'Hallelujah' at this momentous gift he had been given. As he stood there staring at the golden throne with tears of joy running down his face, he felt a hand touch his shoulder. When he looked back his mother stood there fully restored to the beauty and grace he remembered from his childhood.

"Go with God, my son," she said with the most wondrous smile on her face.

He tried to answer, to say how much he loved and missed her, but rapidly this plain of judgment and all of its occupants were slipping from his view. All he could do was return her smile and receive an acknowledging nod.

As everything faded to black, he knew he would do whatever was required to ensure his mother's place in heaven.

+ - + - + - + - + - + - + - +

The grating sound of their cabin door opening woke Marion from her restless slumber. She didn't easily get sea-sick, but this passage had been pushing her close to the edge. Opening her eyes, she took in the bleak gray-painted walls and remembered this wasn't the Atlantic crossing she had enjoyed with Hank, but a German battleship out on the high seas.

She turned her head towards the sound of the door and watched two sailors enter, one carrying a large tray of what was obviously food. She wasn't certain if her queasy stomach would permit her to eat, but maybe the tray would include something simple like plain wheat toast.

Lana was talking to the younger sailor with the tray as she moved over towards the table. Then almost before Marion realized anything was happening, Lana made her move. Marion and Hank had been through a lot of tight situations in the past, some of which they had only escaped by fighting for their lives. And Hank was pretty good when it became necessary to fight. But this young girl was definitely way out of Hank's league. She had known it since she witnessed Lana's fight against Biberach's two incredibly strong henchmen, but now she wondered if even then the girl had just been playing with them to stall for time to heal her friend.

This time Lana hadn't needed to stall and Marion realized it took less than two seconds from her first move until both opponents were slipping to the floor and the girl was racing to the door. Marion couldn't imagine what the girl's destination could be on a battleship at sea, as the first man who saw her would know she didn't belong.

But rather than dart out into the passageway, Lana quietly eased the hatch shut before turning back towards the room. After walking over to the table, Marion watched the girl use the remaining knife to tear open her own hand before proceeding over to the man she had taken out with the knife throw to the throat.

If she was cutting open her own hand, Marion knew it was to heal her victim. But if she intended to heal him, why kill him in the first place?

Marion watched as Lana pulled the knife from the sailor's throat with an ugly squelching sound. And for a second she thought the seasickness, which was bubbling just below the surface, was going to consume her. But she swallowed hard and forced it back down; whatever course Lana was setting them on, they might have to move fast and there wasn't time for her to be sick.

After the knife was removed, Lana knelt beside the sailor with her bleeding hand pressed against the wound in his throat. Finally, after what felt to Marion like minutes, but was really no more than eight or ten seconds, Lana lifted her hand away.

"Lana, what are you doing?" asked Marion in a hushed whisper, as though afraid her normal voice would penetrate the inch thick steel walls of their glorified prison cell.

She was startled when Lana turned her face towards her and she saw the inhuman fire in Lana's eyes, the way her nostrils were flaring, and how she was breathing hard like she had just run five miles to win some Olympic event.

After a couple of seconds the fire in the girl's eyes dimmed a little and her breathing was back under control. But when she spoke there was a hardness in her voice Marion had never heard before or even imagined Lana was capable of producing.

"I am working on a fucking escape plan," Lana growled out with an unbelievable intensity. As she continued, even her voice didn't sound to Marion quite like her own. "Do NOT interfere if you want to survive."

Marion was shocked to silence as she watched Lana pick up the bloody knife and move over to the second sailor. Quickly she lashed open this boy's hand and then her own, before repeating the healing process on him. Marion couldn't understand what Lana was doing. She remembered Lana telling her she had shared their blood so she could heal Marion in the future the way she had healed Whitney back at the chateau. But why was she doing this with these sailors? It didn't make any sense.

To Marion, this time the ten seconds Lana spent joined to the second sailor seemed to pass quickly. When Lana removed her hand and leaned back on her haunches, she spoke first, but again her voice was so hard, dark, and brutal it didn't sound in the slightest like Lana.

"Marion, get a wet towel so we can clean up this blood."

As Marion hurried into the head, it suddenly clicked. Underneath everything the voice sounded more like Laura than Lana. Who was in control of Lana's body?

Returning with the damp towel, Marion stepped close to where Lana still knelt next to the younger sailor. As she reached forward to wipe the blood from what she decided she had to consider Laura's not Lana's hands, Laura turned to look at her with dark, glittery eyes.

"No, stay back. If you touch me now, I will enthrall you too," Laura snarled with a look in her eyes that said she wanted to take possession of Marion and everyone else within reach.

Marion jerked back as though she had stuck her hand into fire. Suddenly, she had the tiniest inkling of what Laura was doing, and it scared her more than anything since first running into these kids. Scared her more even than Major Biberach. Back in Jaguar City, Laura's attention had all been focused on Lana, but now it was turned towards her. And having experienced first hand the places Laura could create in her mind, she couldn't even imagine what sort of places she would create when darkness filled her soul like at this moment.

Carefully, Laura reached out and took the towel from Marion's hand and then she proceeded to wipe first her own hands and then those of the sailor. Then she moved to the second sailor and wiped the blood from his throat and neck.

Once all of the telltale blood was removed from the older sailor, Laura touched his face and spoke in a commanding tone, "Arise, Peter Mausenhoff."

+ - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - +

Peter Mausenhoff came awake abruptly. One second he was standing on the Judgment Plain hearing God's pronouncement, and the next he was back laying on the floor of the prisoners' cabin on the _Hitler_. Had it all been a dream?

Then his hand rose to his throat and didn't find a single indication of the knife wound. No pain. No mark. No blood. Had the wound been a dream, too?

Finally, he noticed the dark haired girl kneeling beside him.

"Peter Mausenhoff, are you ready to be about God's work?"

'God's work?' wondered Mausenhoff. 'If it was a dream, how does she know?'

She must have read the confusion on his face for she spoke again and now there was more of the commanding power in her voice.

"I AM the emissary of God. You were returned from the Judgment Day to help me in my work to earn your family's place in heaven. Now, are you ready to be my faithful disciple?"

Before he could answer or even contemplate the question, she reached out and touched him. And it was like he was once again standing back before God, only this time he was awake and it was most definitely real. In every corner of his being he felt the power of God and in his heart he heard a chorus of a thousand angels singing God's praise.

With tears streaming from his eyes, he slowly rose to his knees and knelt before the girl. "What would you have me do?"

"You will bring the following men to me, one at a time, so they too can experience the power of God and join in the upcoming holy crusade." Then she proceeded to name his commanding officer and five of the men who worked under him.

When he nodded his willingness to follow her commands, she touched him again and once more he experienced the glory and power of God filling him up.

"Go," she commanded.

Quickly, he climbed to his feet and made his way out through the hatch.

+ - + - + - + - + - +

Marion watched as the tears of exultation streamed down the face of the older sailor, Peter Mausenhoff. She had heard of similar scenes to what she was witnessing among the 'Holy Rollers' religion down in the American South, but she had never seen it in person. Just seeing the expression on the man's face, she knew he would do whatever Laura commanded. With Laura's comments about God, disciples, and holy crusades, Marion was extremely curious about what visions she had been feeding the man. Whatever they were, they must have been even more intense then her own experiences in Jaguar City.

After the man rose to his feet and quickly exited the cabin, Laura moved over the second, younger sailor. As Marion continued to watch, Laura took a moment to run her fingers up and down the boy's face. Then, like with the older sailor, she said. "Arise, Wilfred Schmidt."

Marion couldn't help but notice the large erection in the boy's dungarees as he came awake and looked up into Laura's eyes. Nor the way Laura reached down and stroked his crotch with her free hand.

"Willy, are you ready to do anything I ask?" asked Laura.

"Yes, Mistress," he eagerly responded while not so subtly thrusting his pelvis up against her hand. "Just tell me what I need to do to earn the privilege of returning to the harem, Mistress."

Marion couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. Whatever scenario Laura had used on this young man to gain his support was apparently very different than what she had used on the other one.

"Willy, you need to go find and bring back some sailor's outfits for me and my friend so we can move about the ship unnoticed. You would like me to be able to come visit you and your buddies down in your quarters, right? And be sure to include some hats to cover our hair. And with the inclement weather on deck, you better bring a couple sets of foul weather gear, too. If you can do that for me, I think a return visit to the harem can be arranged."

"Oh, yes, Mistress. I would love for you to able to join me down in my quarters. I know just where to get all of the clothes you will need. I can get them and be back in fifteen minutes."

Laura leaned down and kissed the boy hard before speaking. "No, you must go about your regular duties. Would bringing us lunch be part of your duties?"

The boy nodded but had a sort of glassy look to his eyes.

"Well, it would be best if you bring the clothes at lunchtime. I think a suitable reward can be arranged if you manage to get the clothes without anyone noticing. Can you do that for me? And can you spend your free time this morning thinking about what fun things you would like to do when you return?"

"Yes, Mistress," the boy whispered as he thrust feverishly against her hand.

Marion watched as Laura gave a painfully hard squeeze of her hand before abruptly withdrawing.

"I think little Willy needs to learn a little patience. If you do a good job at all of your tasks, he will be well rewarded."

Then Laura helped the boy to his feet and gave him a playful slap on the ass to send him on his way.

Once they were again alone in the cabin, Marion couldn't contain her curiosity, even though she wasn't certain she really wanted the answers.

Seeing that a little of the intensity had left the girl's eyes now that the men were no longer in the room, Marion asked, "It's Laura, right?"

Laura looked back at Marion before collapsing down onto one of the desk chairs. "Yeah, Lana let's me use her body sometimes. And this was one of those times where I had the experience necessary to do what had to be done, if we are to get out of here alive."

"What exactly is your plan?"

"Oh, at the moment I am just winging it. If things go right and we have enough time, I intend to have each man bring his commanding officer here so I can subjugate them until I have worked my way to the top and can take control of the ship. If things fall apart before then, I will try to have a backup plan in place to at least get us off the ship."

The ship was still severely pitching and heaving in the rough seas. Marion muttered, "I don't think I want to end up in the open water."

Laura looked at her and gave a wave of her hand as though Marion's concerns were too trivial to matter. "Believe me; I have survived a lot worse."

Perhaps it was the scene she had just witnessed with the two men, but for the first time Marion was truly starting to believe this 'Laura' really was thousands of years old and could survive anything you threw against her. But she also understood that Laura would have no qualms dealing harshly with anyone who stood in her way. And here she had thought dealing with Lana had been scary.

"Ah, could I speak to Lana for a minute?"

Laura's eyes got real still for a moment as though she was focusing on some internal conversation. Of course, Marion realized for her that could be quite literally true.

Finally, Laura shook her head. "I am afraid the shock of what she had to witness while I was dealing with those men was way beyond anything else she has had to endure since getting saddled with me as a roommate. I think she is going to need a little more time to recover from the experience."

Marion couldn't stop the shutter that ran through her body as she tried to imagine what Lana had just gone through.

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Part 3

It was thirty minutes after sunset as the four of them crouched down amongst the sand dunes one hundred yards from the electrified fence which formed the eastern perimeter of the Peenemunde Research and Testing facility. The fence was extremely well lit, guard towers were situated at five hundred foot intervals along its length, and guards with dogs were passing along the cleared area on the outer side of the fence at five minute intervals.

"This is the least secure spot on the perimeter we have seen," whispered Indy. "And I don't see how we are going to get through even here without being seen. Perhaps we are going to have to try the frontal approach similar to what Whitney originally suggested. Maybe we can bluff our way through the main gate. I have done it before."

Clark thought back to what he could remember of Indy's adventures from the movies, not that real life had been exactly like the movie version. But from what details Indy had shared, the broad strokes were very similar. Apparently when Henry Jones and George Lucas crossed paths in the distance future, George would take detailed notes.

"So, Hank," whispered Clark in turn. "Have you really bluffed your way into one of the Nazis most important and well guarded facilities in the heart of the fatherland?"

Hank looked at the fence and the towers again before finally shaking his head. "Well, ahh, no."

"Okay, I guess then it is up to me. Remember how I used the Vulcan transporter device to get us out of the chateau? Well, I can use it to move us passed the fence and into the shadows between those buildings over there," and Clark paused to point to a group of buildings just barely visible in the distance. "But I better go first and see if I can't scrounge us up some uniforms, so we will look like we belong."

Fortunately, the gloom mostly hid Clark's smile. Sometimes it seemed like he spent more time using his special abilities to steal clothing than for anything else.

Clark pulled out one of the spare communication devices he had picked up after his original one had ultimately been destroyed back at the chateau. After appearing to fiddle with it for a few seconds, he looked up at the others.

"I'll be back in a few minutes. Wait here for me."

Then Clark shifted his body into 'speed mode' and gave a quick shove upwards before starting to fly in an arc that would take him over the barrier fence. He knew in the relatively dark spot where they were hiding that he would have appeared to have almost instantly vanished.

Clark cleared the twenty foot high fence by a good forty feet, but once he was past it, he willed himself to continue to climb. They hadn't been able to discover much about the interior layout of the facility during the three hours they had to spend scouting the area and the small picturesque village of Peenemunde before darkness fell. And unfortunately, back here in 1936 you couldn't just go on the internet and call up satellite photos of the area.

Clark climbed steadily until he was almost two thousand feet in the air. This was the highest he had been since he had discovered his ability to fly two nights earlier. It was quite the rush to be this high up and to have such a bird's eye view of the world. Although truthfully, few birds ever flew this high. But tonight this much height was necessary if he was going to be able to see the whole facility at once as it sprawled along almost five miles of the beach and extended inland about two miles. They were going to have a lot of ground to cover if it ended up being a random search for the one, doubtlessly small, records archive they needed to find. Hopefully with Gretchen and Indy's ability to read German, it wouldn't be a truly random search.

Fortunately, the archive room wasn't Clark's primary objective at this moment. No, he was looking for a barracks where he could 'borrow' some clothes and a barracks should be much easier to spot from the air.

The most prominent feature of the base was its two large runways. The first ran parallel to the coastline for use when the wind was blowing west to east. The second ran perpendicular to the first for times when the wind was blowing north or south. A number of historic-looking old three-engine transport planes where parked on the apron near the south end of the airfield. What was the model number of the Junker's version of the classic Ford Trimotor?

But Clark knew the more interesting aircraft would be located in the hangers lining the runways. Would planes like the Stupka dive-bomber or the ME-109 fighter be here for development testing, he wondered. And what about the giant building near the juncture of the two runways? It looked big enough to house one of the fabled German airships. Clark had seen the movie 'Hindenburg' several times and of course there was the airship scene from 'Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade'. It would be so cool to see an airship while they were back here. Then he remembered the famous scene of the Rocketeer flying up to the dirigible from the Griffith Observatory out in L.A. Hell, he could duplicate that and he didn't even need the jetpack!

Enough day-dreaming, Clark chided himself. Focus on the mission first. With the size of the facility, there had to be a large number of people living on base. Plus, it wasn't necessary to find uniforms specifically for the branch of the Gestapo to which Major Biberach belonged. No, any military uniform found on the base would do. Although hopefully he could find something that was a better fit for himself and his two equally large male companions than the undersized jackets he and Indy had ended up with back at the chateau.

Clark banked over towards the southwestern quadrant of the base as that area just had the 'feel' of housing. As he got closer he made out a well-lit soccer field with a game in progress. Yes, this was definitely the right area of the base. He decided to take a closer look and went into a power-dive, zooming straight down to the ground. He waited until the last possible second to pull out of the dive and went racing across the field mere inches above the grass. As he was weaving between the frozen in-place players, it was very tempting to grab the ball and mess with their game. But as he near the end of the field where a large knot of players were congregated near the goal, Clark realized some of these players were pretty good sized. Quickly, Clark gained a little altitude as he looked for the field house of the athletic complex.

The field house was a large three story brick structure which housed a gymnasium, a fencing center, and an indoor pool. Clark planted his best landing yet in his two days of experience, ending up one hundred feet from the main entrance with a smooth transition straight into speed running mode. He raced into the building and quickly found the men's locker room. It wasn't until the fourth aisle of lockers that he found an unoccupied row. Fifteen of the twenty-eight lockers in this row had locks. If he was lucky, some of these would have the clothes he needed. As he started crushing the locks with his powerful grip, he hoped that breaking open a few lockers here at the gym wouldn't trigger a base wide alert. Surely, they must have some problems with petty theft here just like back in the twenty-first century or they wouldn't bother with the locks. Now he just had to be careful to not leave any of the broken locks where they could be quickly found.

The first locker contained a gray Luftwaffe uniform with a lot of ribbons and braid, however when Clark held it up, it was immediately apparent the owner was a lot smaller than Clark, Whitney, or Indy. Moving on to the next locker he found something he could use. It was a lot plainer than the first one, but then an athletic younger soldier wouldn't have yet achieved a high rank.

Clark only had to ransack eight more lockers before he had 'acquired' three sets of uniforms of more or less the correct size. Now came the tempting part. Should he make a side trip to the women's locker room to look for a more appropriate set of clothes for Gretchen? Since being back here in Nazi Germany he had seen very few women in uniform, so having Gretchen pose as a civilian secretary wouldn't be unexpected. A month ago, he would have used the need for a change of clothes as an excuse for a trip to the women's locker room and if he saw a few naked women, well that would just have to be the price he would have to bear. But a lot had changed in the past month and most if it was associated with one Chloe Sullivan. And at the thought of Chloe he was reminded of the whole reason he was back here in Nazi Germany. And it was not about fun and games, but about rescuing Chloe and Lex. Of course, rescuing Lana and Marion had to come first.

With a sigh, Clark, as usual, decided to do the right thing by forgoing the voyeuristic expedition to the women's locker room and focus on the mission. With a little more searching, he found a large laundry bag. After dropping the remains of the padlocks into the bottom of the bag, he changed into one of the uniforms and then added his suit and the two spare uniforms to the bag. Looking like the poster boy for a Gestapo recruiting campaign, Clark shouldered the bag and raced back out of the field house.

After exiting the building, he quickly launched himself back into the air. He was halfway back to where the others were waiting when he noticed a dark building with a large adjacent parking area filled with an assortment of cars, trucks, and even a few half-tracks. This must be the motor pool. Remembering how Indy had hot-wired the truck after the events at the chateau, Clark thought he could do it, too. And given the size of the base, having a set of wheels at their disposal would speed things without having to make excessive use of the 'Vulcan Transporter' cover story.

Clark dropped into the lot and ran a quick eye over the available choices. Finally, he settled on an open staff car. It was a warm beautiful night, plus the stowed convertible top would give him easy, quick egress in case of an emergency.

It was only the work of a tiny fraction of a second in speed mode to pull the wires loose from the ignition switch, find the right pair, and twist them together. Clark was finally forced to drop out of speed mode as he waited for the engine to turn over and catch.

Once the engine fired up and started idling smoothly, Clark spent a few seconds pushing and pulling various knobs until he found the headlight switch. This was still prewar Germany and things like curfews, blackout curtains, and covered lights were still many years in the future. For now, driving around the base without lights was a bigger risk than driving with them.

Slipping the car into gear, Clark pulled out of the parking lot and then turned left in the direction of the eastern perimeter fence. The three mile drive to the buildings near where he had left the others took just over five minutes. Considering all the other events, which occurred prior to stopping for the car, covered last than one second of 'real time', he still had plenty of time before the others should start becoming overly concerned.

After parking in the shadows of an alley between two of the buildings, Clark grabbed the laundry bag before climbing out. As he paused for a second before flying back to join the others, he looked up at the adjacent dark buildings. Wouldn't it be funny if the information they were looking for was located right in one of these buildings and the whole stealing of the car would turn out to be for naught? But then Clark shook his head. If the branch of the Gestapo they were searching for was anything like what he expected, their facilities on this giant base would be carefully guarded 24/7. Actually, looking for guarded buildings might be as good of place to start their search as any other.

Tossing the bag over his shoulder, Clark leapt into the air and soared back to where he had left the others.

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Indy and Whitney rejoined Clark and Gretchen from where they had retreated behind a dune to change their clothes. Clark had learned enough during the past few days back here in 1930's Germany to know that his jet-black uniform was only worn by the Gestapo while Whitney's and Indy's light gray uniforms were for the Luftwaffe, the German Air Force. But he still didn't know the secondary details like how to decipher the rank insignia.

"Hank, Gretchen. Does one of you know enough to tell what the ranks for these uniforms are?"

Gretchen was the first to respond, "Clark, your uniform is for a lieutenant in the Gestapo while both Whitney's and Hank's are for captains in the Luftwaffe."

Clark frowned. "So they both outrank me?" Whitney shot him a quick grin. He never should have gone for the gaudiest one.

"Well, yes and no. On paper at least, a Luftwaffe captain does outrank a Gestapo lieutenant, but the typically arrogant Gestapo officer would never admit to it."

Gretchen looked Clark over. Even with the uniform, Clark still managed to look sixteen. "Clark, I know you don't speak the language, but at a signal from Hank or me, can you at least try to look a little intimidating?"

Clark thought back to the time he had spent impersonating a Greek God back in ancient Rome. Could he project that power without using his voice? Standing a little straighter, he put on his 'godlike' countenance and then turned up just the faintest hint of his heat vision. Apparently, it worked as Gretchen abruptly took a step back and she seemed to turn a little paler under the dim light.

"Okay, Clark," she managed to say with a slight catch in her voice. "I guess you can pass for one of them. But how about you tone it down a little until we actually need it?"

Clark gave her a quick wink. "Okay." Then turning so he could see the guys as well, he continued. "Is everyone ready to go?"

Gretchen took a deep breathe and then nodded. Indy tugged down on the sleeves of his jacket one more time before giving a curt nod. Whitney gave an enthusiastic nod of his head; he had been waiting ever since getting the Samson braid to get into action and finally it looked like things were about to happen.

"Okay," began Clark as he once again pulled out his communicator and pretended to fiddle with the settings. "Now this can be a little disconcerting. I would recommend you close your eyes and it will all be over in a second."

The other three quickly closed their eyes and Clark immediately shifted into speed-mode. One at a time he ferried them over the fence and then placed them next to the hidden car.

"Okay, we're there," Clark said in a voice a little above a whisper.

The others opened their eyes and took a quick look around. They were standing in the shadows of an alley between two wood-frame buildings. Like what seemed to be the case on military bases around the world, these buildings had the feel of structures intended only for short-term occupancy during the construction phase, but which had ultimately been put into permanent service. So, even though they had just received a fresh coat of paint, they still managed to look shoddy and decrepit.

After giving the others a moment to adjust to their new surroundings, Clark spoke up again. "I guess we could start by searching these buildings, but my gut tells me what we are looking for won't be here. I mean, I don't see the guys from the chateau trusting in just the perimeter fence to protect their secrets. No, they would be equally paranoid about others on this large base getting access to their secrets. So, I think we should start by focusing on places with more security. That's why I 'borrowed' this car."

"Yeah, Clark, I agree," answered Indy as he turned to look over their new transportation.

"Great," responded Clark. Then with a flourish, he pointed to the driver's seat. "Hank, since you speak the language, would you like to drive?"

"Sure," then Indy turned to Gretchen. "Do you want to ride up front with me? We can let Clark and Whitney sit in back and practice being silent and acting all self-important."

Before Gretchen even had a chance to answer, Whitney vaulted into the back seat. "Come on, let's go already. Time's a wasting."

Indy shook his head as he climbed behind the wheel. He had been experiencing the rush of wearing the Samson braid for the past couple of days, too. But so far he had managed to behave with at least a modicum of dignity, unlike Whitney who had been almost bouncing off the walls with his new-found vitality. Perhaps he was really starting to get old when instead of focusing on the excitement of suddenly having superhuman strength, he instead couldn't get his worries about Mar out of his head. It was now over two days since he had last seen her. Where was she? What were those Nazi swine doing to her? If they hurt so much as one hair on her head, he would make them pay most dearly.

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They spent over thirty minutes slowly cruising the various roads and streets of the base. In that time they located three areas with heighten security. The first was a row of hangers, including the giant airship building, along the edge of the runway. None of these buildings looked like offices, so they continued their search. The second was near the beach and looked more like an industrial complex. From the large storage tanks arrayed along one edge of the area, Clark and Whitney surmised this was the rocket development area.

The third area they found seemed like the best bet. It was a modest office complex like several others they had seen scattered around the facility. But this one had a pair of armed guards standing outside every entrance. And these guards were all dressed in the black uniforms of the Gestapo.

After circling three out of the four sides of the two block by three block complex, Indy drove on for a couple more blocks before turning one more corner and parking out of sight.

"I think this is it," Indy said as he shut off the motor.

"I agree. Wait here while I do a quick reconnoiter," answered Clark before vaulting out of the back seat and onto the sidewalk.

"Wait, let me come with you," added Whitney as he also rose from his seat.

Clark looked at Whitney for a second and then shrugged. "Okay."

Pulling his communicator one more time, Clark stabbed an imaginary button and shifted to speed-mode once again. Throwing Whitney over his shoulder, he vaulted into the air and flew back to the guarded office complex. From the air he could see several interior courtyards not visible from the street. He selected the one with the most lit windows around its perimeter as his landing site since he had a hunch what they were looking for would be in the busiest area.

Landing much more lightly on his feet then he had been able that first night after the long fall from the chateau to the rocks in the river, he quickly moved around and peered through all of the windows, both dark and lit. He was interested in both the activity in the facility and in finding a secure spot to where he could 'transport' the others. Most of the lit windows showed normal office type activities, but one heavily draped set of windows in particular drew his attention. Carefully sliding the window open a few inches, he pushed aside the curtain to see a roomful of people frozen in place due to the 'speed-mode' effect. Most of the men in this room were not dressed in military uniforms, but in robes that seemed to be a match for those back at the chateau. It looked like they had found their goal.

After absorbing the view, including the implements of the black arts scattered around the room, Clark pulled the curtain back into place. Now it was time to find a spot to hide Whitney while he went back for the others.

Returning to the task of searching the windows around the courtyard, Clark located a dark room with two long rows of file cabinets. This might not be what they were looking for, but it seemed as good of place as any to start. Pushing one of its two windows open, he eased Whitney's body through the opening and then climbed in himself before dropping out of speed-mode.

"Whitney," Clark whispered as he watched Whitney try to adjust to the abrupt change in locale. "I think this is the right place. I saw a group of men in robes just like back at the chateau. Wait here while I go get Hank and Gretchen."

Whitney reached up and tugged on Clark's arm before Clark had a chance to leave. "Clark, how do you do it? I have been dying to ask. I understand the speed-running, but how did you get us past the fence? And the time back at the chateau when we were falling towards the river, how did you get us to that other bluff?"

"Ah, Vulcan transporter, don't you remember?"

Whitney snorted. "Yeah, right. So give."

Clark grinned. "Trade secret. If I told you, I would have to kill you. Now just wait here, I'll be right back."

Clark didn't wait for a response before reverting to speed-mode and turning the dive out the window into a flying arc that swept him up out of the courtyard. Originally, he had intended to explain the situation to Indy and Gretchen before bring them to the room, but now he decided to bring them straight there in speed-mode first. It would be a little disconcerting to them at first, but with Whitney's recent state of mind, he was nervous about leaving him alone in the building for more than a few seconds. Who knew what stupid, dangerous thing Whitney might do given his current feelings of indestructibility.

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They had been quietly searching the file room for twenty minutes without finding anything leading directly to where Major Biberach had taken Lana and Marion. Oh, Gretchen had found several mentions of Biberach, just nothing recent. These files seemed to be primarily copies of correspondence, or more accurately orders, from a group called 'The Tribunal' to people and organizations all over Germany. Surprisingly, they had found a large number addressed to Adolf Hitler personally and these were written in the form of commands in much the same manner as the few they had found addressed to Biberach. They all had to wonder who or what this 'Tribunal' was and if it truly was the power behind the throne like these documents indicated.

Indy jammed the pages he had been reading back into their folder, slid the folder into its slot in the cabinet, and eased the drawer closed. Then he tapped Gretchen on the shoulder and motioned with his head over to where Clark and Whitney were waiting by the door. Giving a nod of her head, she took a moment to restow the document she had been examining and then walked over to join the men.

When they were all close enough to hear and keeping his voice to a whisper, Indy said. "These records cover a period of time going back three years, which would coincide with the opening of this facility. But I haven't seen anything less than a month old. I think the more current documents must still be in the staff offices. We are going to have to move into the more occupied areas of the building, if we are going to have a chance of finding paperwork with Mar and Lana's current location."

Clark, who had spent most of this time watching the other areas of the building with his x-ray vision to see if they had been discovered, slowly nodded his head. He knew it wouldn't be as easy as finding what they needed in this conveniently unoccupied room. At least between the time they had spent driving around the base and looking through the documents in here, it was now after 10 PM and the stragglers among the office workers had mostly cleared out. The group in the robes where still in the room he had seen earlier, but the files they were looking for were unlikely to be in that room.

"Okay, I guess it is time to test out these uniforms. Everyone try to remember we are supposed to be dedicated Nazis working hard for the greater glory of the fatherland and act accordingly. And Whitney, wipe that stupid grin off your. . . " And abruptly Clark stopped talking in mid-sentence.

The others stared at the suddenly blank expression on his face. After a moment his eyes started darting around as though he was trying to locate something. Then he turned and his attention seemed to be focused on one of the walls where a row of cabinets stood and one of the ubiquitous portraits of Hitler hung.

"Clark, what is it?" hissed Whitney feeling both afraid and somewhat excited that their presence might have been discovered.

"Do you hear that?" asked Clark suddenly; as though Whitney's voice had broken whatever trance he had been in.

"Hear what?" asked Indy after receiving shrugs of shoulders and shakes of the heads from the others.

Clark was about to try and explain what he was hearing when he realized whatever it was, he wasn't hearing it with his ears. No, it was like some totally new sense, similar to hearing, but different had suddenly been activated. Sort of like the way his x-ray and heat visions had just sort of spontaneously turned on.

Whatever he was sensing . . . no, sensing didn't sufficiently differentiate the experience from the normal human range. Suddenly the term 'relling' popped into his mind from the classic James Schmitz story, 'The Witches of Karres'. Somehow the term just seemed appropriate for what he was experiencing. He was relling some kind of power source or energy field that had just switched on. It was unlike anything he could ever remember experiencing before, yet it felt so familiar like deep down in his soul he should know what it was.

But whatever it was, he immediately knew it didn't belong in 1936 Nazi Germany. Finding the paper trail to the girls was going to have to be put on hold for the moment.

Clark pulled his communicator back out of his pocket and played with it for a minute before looking up at the others. "Some power source was just activated nearby and the Vulcan-based sensors in my communicator picked it up. Whatever this device is, it shouldn't be here in this Nazi base. We have to go check it out."

Then without even pretending to use his communicator to initiate the 'Vulcan transporter', Clark shifted into speed-mode and one by one flew the others back out to the waiting car.

"Hurry up and get in. What we are looking for is somewhere over there," and Clark pointed in the general direction of the airfield.

The others exchanged a look that said none of them understood what had just happened, but for the moment they were going to have to follow Clark's lead. He was the one with all of the technology which had allowed them to penetrate this highly secured facility and if he thought this matter was urgent, they would try to help.

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It took less than five minutes with Clark pointing the way and Indy driving for them to reach the road running past the guarded hangars by the runway. They cruised down this road at a slow steady pace, as though they were merely out for a pleasant evening's drive.

This close to the source Clark had no difficulty 'relling' that the source was located in the eastern half of the large structure he had originally guessed was an airship hangar. He tried focusing his x-ray vision on the building, but all he saw was an indistinct gray blur. Either the building was constructed of lead or it had a very thick coating of some lead-based paint. Either way, they were going to have to enter the building to discover what was in there which had awakened this new sense.

And definitely it was some kind of new sense which must be related to the electro-magnetic spectrum. For now that it was activated, he was noticing all kinds of sources; although most of them were as weak as candles compared to the bonfire raging in that building. When he tried to tune out the powerful source in the building, he could detect a faint source in the engine compartment of the car, which with his x-ray vision he confirmed was the generator and which from school he knew would be putting out a small magnetic field. Once he understood what it was, he immediately recognized a dozen similar sources scattered around the base and knew they were other vehicles with their engines running. And sort of like radar, he could now pinpoint all of their positions.

Similarly in the distance he could connect another somewhat brighter source with a group of radio towers. One of the towers was definitely putting out Morse Code as the source seemed to pulse with a slow languid rhythm: dot . . . dot . . . dash . . . pause . . . dot . . . dash . . . dash. The other active tower was putting out a different kind of signal. It felt almost like music and it seemed like with a little practice he would be able to recognize it. Did this mean he could suddenly hear radio signals without even needing the radio?

When the heat vision had first kicked in, it had been so scary. This new sense in and of itself wasn't scary in the same way, but just the fact it was happening was scary. How many more abilities were going to appear? When they had all appeared, would he even be able to relate to humans anymore? A little panicked voice was starting to scream in his head and he had to force himself to focus on the current situation to try and drown it out.

Clark leaned into the front seat between Indy and Gretchen. "The power source I am picking up is located inside that largest hanger, somewhere down towards the eastern end. We are going to have to get in there and check it out."

Indy nodded and started scanning the area for a place to hide the car as he slowly drove down towards the eastern end. Across the road from where the guards were posted was a supply depot with numerous stacks of sheet metal, I-beams, and timber in an open area adjacent to a covered area filled with wooden crates. Indy turned the car onto the gravel road which ran along side the supply depot and then doused the car's lights before pulling up behind a large pile of crates.

Clark took a moment to study their position relative to the pair of guards and the entrance to the giant building. The guards were stationed at the perimeter fence located about seventy-five feet from the building itself. He could fly himself and the others past them without being noticed, but could he get them through the door without the guards seeing or hearing something? It would be simplest to just take out the guards, but he had no idea how often they were rotated or had to check in. And if at all possible, he wanted time to check out the building and its energy source without being interrupted.

Hmm, a simple diversion might be in order. If he made enough noise over here, it might cover the noise of their getting through the door of the building. After getting the others out of the car and having them close their eyes, before he used the 'Vulcan Transporter', he accelerated into speed-mode and made a side trip over to the largest stack of sheet metal. He quickly heaved one corner of the stack about eight feet up into the air. Hopefully, when it came crashing back down, it would look like it had merely been poorly stacked and had spontaneously tumbled to the ground.

Then, still in speed-mode, he flew the others over to where they were standing just outside of the door. After shattering the lock on the door, he quickly pulled the door open and moved the others inside.

It wasn't until he had the others inside and the door pulled shut that he paused to take in the contents of the giant building. And what he saw so shocked him that he dropped out of speed-mode and then never even noticed the distant rumble of his noisy diversion.

Filling this end of the brightly lit, massive building was a giant ship. But it was not an airship like Clark had been expecting. While it seemed to be floating as lightly as an airship, it had a solidarity about it that just shouted it was made of inches thick steel, or some alien equivalent. For with one quick look, Clark knew he had seen its like before. And the place he had seen it was down in his father's storm cellar. This giant three hundred foot long by one hundred foot wide ship was just like a scaled up version of the little ship which had brought him to earth.

Oh, the shape wasn't exactly the same. No, the prow was a little less pointed and the central spherical shape was sort of squashed down, but the general shape was the same. And the symbols around the perimeter which were currently glowing an incandescent white were very similar to the ones on his own ship. My God, thought Clark, this ship has to be from the same place I am!

Clark gave the ship a closer look and noticed the giant blackened, torn up area along the left side of the lower surface. Something extremely powerful had hit and damaged this ship.

He was just starting to take a step forward towards the ship when his three companions opened their eyes. Gretchen let out a gasp and Whitney exclaimed, "Holy Shit!"

Indiana Jones managed the most coherent response. "Clark is this a Vulcan ship or does it belong to one of the other star-faring races you mentioned?"

If Clark wasn't still in such a state of shock, he might have laughed. He had played up the whole Vulcan story so much that when an alien spaceship suddenly showed up, Indy didn't even blink an eye.

Clark was trying to come up with a good, hell any, response when suddenly three giant legs extended out of the bottom of the spaceship. As soon as they reached the ground, the brilliant lettering around the perimeter of the ship began to fade and the energy source, which had activated Clark's newest sense, spooled down.

Once the incredible power source of the giant ship seemed to fall dormant, a hatchway suddenly opened and a ramp began telescoping down the thirty feet to the ground. Before the end of the ramp had even reach the floor of the building, a man came striding down. When he reached the ground, he immediately turned and started walking towards the group still frozen in place by the door.

As he step from the shadows under the ship, they could all make out he was a tall man with jet black, closely cropped hair. As he got closer, they could see he was wearing black trousers and a royal blue buttonless shirt. Over this he was wearing what looked like a long lab coat only his was of some shiny silvery material rather than the traditional white. Pieces of equipment could be seen to bulge out the deep pockets of the coat, but what attracted Clark's attention was the symbol on the jacket where a vest pocket would normally be located. The symbol was bright red and shaped like a diamond with a stylized 'S' inside. Clark didn't understand it, but there was something achingly familiar about that symbol. He didn't remember seeing it on the exterior of his ship, but he must have seen it somewhere before.

The man approached within six feet before pausing and everyone couldn't help but notice he was just as tall as Clark. And Whitney realized the man actually looked a lot like Clark. Oh, not like a twin brother, but more like a distant uncle. The man looked to be in his upper thirties and very fit, sort of how Clark might look when he filled out and put on another thirty or forty pounds of muscle.

The man looked each of them over before addressing them in German. "Wer sind Sie? Sie wissen, daß niemand hier drinnen erlaubt is, wenn ich prüfe."

'Shit,' thought Clark. 'I am about to meet someone who may be from my home planet and he speaks fucking German."

"Gretchen, what did he say?" asked Clark while watching the man's face. From his expression, it was obvious he didn't understand English. Wonderful.

"He asked who we are and says we should know no one is allowed in here when he is testing."

Clark looked at the man for a moment. There was one easy test to determine if this was a normal man or someone from his home planet.

Clark stepped forward and extended his right hand. "I am Clark Kent."

The man looked at Clark's hand for a moment and then reached out and clasped it. Clark slowly tightened his grip to the point where a normal man's hand would have been crushed.

The man just smiled with a small twinkle in his eye and answered with his name.

"Var-El."

End of Chapter 14

Author's Notes

Laura's Judgment Day sequence is based on this dream I had back in 1987. Eighteen years later and it is still very vivid in my mind. When I woke up from the dream, I was drenched in sweat and the sheet was tightly wound around my neck. Perhaps some of the blood flow had been cutoff from my brain. Anyway I ended up laying there for a couple of hours afterwards, certain the world had actually ended. Even for the next couple of days, nothing seemed quite real. Very, very strange.

As far as the character Var-El, we will learn more about him in the next chapter. For now, just let me say he is a relative of Clark's (as I am sure is obvious from his name). I don't believe he has shown up in the Smallville TV show, but he has appeared on a couple of occasions in the Superman comic books. In those stories, he went on several time-travel adventures with Superman, so including him in this story seemed appropriate and as much within canon as anything else.

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Serran -

I looked it up on the internet and if you throw in the people killed by Hitler and Stalin in their respective purges the consensus seems to be around fifty million dead with one source quoting a number as high as eighty-four million for the period from the mid-30's to the end of the second world war. However I think I am going to leave the number in the story where it is. Clark doesn't (yet) have a total recall memory like Chloe does in this story and so he probably didn't know the correct number. And since his goal was to scare her into acting, I think an upward exaggeration is acceptable.

I do like your 'carpet-bombing with nukes' line. Since I got your review, I happened to hear on the military channel or the Discovery channel that the U.S. and Britain dropped three million tons of explosives on the Nazi controlled portions of Europe during the Second World War. This got me curious, so I looked up the facts on the Hiroshima bomb. It was the explosive equivalent of fifteen thousand tons of high explosives. If you divide the two numbers together you find that the allies dropped the equivalent of 200 Hiroshima class nukes on Europe. So they did come pretty close to 'carpet-bombing with nukes'!

The Bismarck class of battleship is 118 feet wide at its widest point. So two of them side-by-side would be 236 feet. If the construction building was 375 feet wide, it would leave 139 feet of width for construction cranes and a couple of railroad tracks to deliver materials. A tight fit, but the Germans were always masters of intricate design and detailed planning.

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winthjo -

Well, someone is going to trash 'The Hitler'. Although is it going to be Clark? Hmm, that might be a little too obvious for my tastes. And hopefully, this chapter gives a hint that it might not be beyond what Laura can accomplish. But there is at least one more big plot twist coming before that point, so we will just have to wait and see.

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Danny -

Hmm, I got a little sidetracked with the whole 'Indiana Jones' subplot, so the 'Biological Families' aspect got pushed back. But hopefully this chapter will get that aspect of the story moving forward. Anyway, I always envisioned 'Biological Families' as a three story arc. In this first part, which mostly takes place in Nazi Germany, Clark learns to fly and learns the first little bit about his heritage. In the second part, they travel back to Chloe's original civilization (and just for Rebel Goddess, all of the men back there wear tights!) and their actions ultimately lead to the creation of one of Superman's classic foes. In the third part, they will try to reach Krypton before its destruction, but the best they can do is reach Argo City shortly before its destruction and thereby rescue Kara and her parents. Of course, at the pace I write, it is going to take years to reach that point.

As far as the story being intense all of the time, what can I say; I write what I like to read. Plus with this story I am trying to make each chapter sort of like a TV episode so the whole story is like one season (Of course, my season is shorter than the typical year long season on Smallville, but still a lot longer time span than a season of '24'.) anyway to get back to your original comment, if you have any suggestions for 'happier lines', I am willing to listen.

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As always, thanks to everyone else (especially Rebel Goddess) who sent a review. They are always appreciated.

Have a great day!

Duane


	15. Biological Families Chapter 15

Biological Families

Author: duane at duaneaakre dot com

Disclaimer: As always I own nothing. Well I own a house, two cars, a pair of jetskis, and a lot of other junk, but none of these characters.

Story Rating: R The story may drift into the HBO range rather than stay in the WB range, so to be on the safe side, I am rating this R.

- Author's Notes -

This chapter takes place on Krypton about two years before Var-El meets Clark in the hanger in Nazi Germany or about fifty years before Clark is born (or 'was delivered from the birthing matrix' as the Kryptonians would say, but more on that later!).

Personally, I have watched the various Superman-related TV shows and movies down through the years, but I have never been into the comics. This chapter is based on research I have done on the internet about the history of Krypton and the El family's place in that history. Of course, just like the many different versions of the Superman story which exist, there are also numerous somewhat conflicting versions of the history of Krypton. I started doing research for this chapter about six months ago and then let the information ferment in my mind for a few months before writing this chapter. So, in the end, I have taken bits and pieces of the various versions and fit them together in a fashion that struck me as interesting, logical, and useful to my story.

Things to know before reading this chapter:

1. Due to the Red Krypton sun, Kryptonians do NOT have any superhuman abilities when they are on Krypton.

2. Clark's father, Jor-El, should be more correctly called Jor-El II (or as I like to say - Junior). Clark's grandfather was Jor-El I (or Senior) and Clark's great-grandfather is Var-El, the central figure of this chapter. The Jor-El who appears in this chapter is a young version of Clark's grandfather, not the Jor-El from the Smallville TV series.

3. To enhance the readability of the chapter, I general use English units of measure (i.e. minutes, hours, days, inches, feet, miles, etc) rather than their Kryptonese equivalents. The one exception is that I use Kryptonese years throughout. One Krypton year equals 1.39 Earth years equals 507 days. I felt this one particular exception helped enhance the 'feel' of life on Krypton without significantly impacting the readability of the story.

I think that is sufficient background. I hope you enjoy a week in the life of Var-El of Krypton!

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Chapter 15

Var-El felt his shoulders sag a little as the holo-images of the Science Council members faded out. 'Damn reactionary old fools,' he cursed under his breathe while setting about the task of powering down the projection equipment.

As he completed the work, a powerful blast of wind shook the observation tower of the El family ancestral home. When the buffeting momentarily died out, Var glanced out the heavy crystal window with its panoramic view stretching from the domed city of Kryptonopolis on the horizon twenty-five miles to the southwest to the magnificent Fire Falls plunging nearly two miles straight down a deep cleft in the canyon wall six miles to the southeast. As always, the view filled him with wonderment. However now the sky, normally a pale green under the light of the red sun, was rapidly darkening as the clouds on the leading edge of the storm raced across the sky.

Down through history the fortunes of the El family had risen and fallen, but always the House of El had stood on this promontory with its commanding view. But in many ways like Krypton itself, the glory days of the House of El seemed to reside in the distant past. The library, conservatory, dining hall, armory, and Hall of Elders seemed to be overflowing with ancient paintings of the house in its heyday when the iridescent crystalline structure seemed to stretch for miles along the top of the bluff. But that was millennia ago before it was forced, like the rest of Krypton, to retreat below ground or huddle under protective domes.

Now all that remained visible of the House of El to the external world was this majestic, five hundred foot tall observation tower and even it needed to be retracted below ground more and more frequently down through the centuries as the intensity, duration, and frequency of the radiation-laden ion storms grew and grew. Frankly, it had reached the point in recent years where Var seldom bothered to raise the tower at all; the same view could just as easily be projected on the tele-screens on the walls in his lab.

But today, as a political statement of the power of the House of El, he had raised the tower for the meeting with the Science Council; not that it had done any good. No, if a thousand years worth of data wasn't enough to convince them it was well past time to act, the symbolic link of the House of El's tower to their own Red Tower wasn't going to sway any entrenched Council Members.

As the tower swayed again under another powerful blast of wind, he glanced out the northern window towards the craggy peaks of the mountains beyond. He was suddenly glad the meeting had only run two and a half hours rather than its normal four. The tower had been an engineering and scientific marvel when it had been constructed almost one thousand years earlier, within a century of the end of the Clone War. But back then the true consequences of the cataclysmic forces unleashed into the environment during the war still hadn't been understood. It would be centuries before the various ion storms looping perpetually around the devastated planet started merging into mega-storms like the one currently bearing down on the tower. Unfortunately, the science of the day never took into account storms capable of spawning multiple cyclones with true supersonic wind speeds. Even this Kryptonillium reinforced tower would be torn to shreds by a direct hit from a supersonic cyclone like the one currently hopping down the mountainside busily throwing off radiation bolts as it headed in the general direction of the House of El. Having the observation tower destroyed in the middle of the council session would have, at least momentarily, gotten their attention, but Var didn't have a sufficient death wish to die just to make a point.

As Var hit the emergency tower retraction button, which could lower the entire five hundred foot tower into the ground in less than three minutes, he took one last look at the vista to the south. Depending how the next several weeks played out, it might be months or years before he would next have an opportunity to enjoy this view first hand.

Once the tower was fully retracted, Var exited its upper observatory level which now was at the same level as the more public portion of the great underground facility. Not that 'more public' had much meaning these days as he and his robotic servants were generally the only ones ever in residence. No, in the hundred years since Kryptonopolis' protective dome had been completed, more and more of the family's time was spent at their residence in the city. When he paused to think about it, he realized his generation had been the worse yet as it had been almost five years since Salva or any of the children had even been out here. He enjoyed the peace and quiet this place provided for his experiments, but couldn't help but wonder if he would be the last of the family to spend significant time out here at the ancestral home. Of course, if he could convince the Supreme Council of the rapidly approaching peril and get them to support his work, then perhaps within his lifetime there wouldn't be any members of the House of El left on the planet to inherit this moldering, old mausoleum.

Before returning to his work, Var decided to permit himself a few moments to watch the storm. He quickly strode down the main central passageway of this level until he reached the Hall of Elders with its magnificent two story windows overlooking the valley beyond. These windows used three layers of the thickest crystal and were recessed two feet from the actual face of the cliff, but still they managed to suffer a cracked pane at least once a year. And as he stood gazing out, he could immediately understand why, as he watched giant boulders the storm had torn loose go hurtling down past the windows. If a gust of supersonic wind caught one of the giant boulders at just the right time, it would toss the rock straight through all three layers of crystal.

However even giant boulders paled in comparison to the radiation bolts the storm was tossing about. The bolts, a vivid brilliant green, would strike rocks on the cliff face or outcroppings on the valley floor and leave a vivid afterglow for several minutes. It was amazing any life still survived on the surface of the planet, he thought, as Kryptonians could only move about freely without environmental suits on less than thirty percent of the continent of Lurvan and on the ancient home continent of Urrika, the situation was even worse. But a number of the hardier species like the flame dragons and the giant migrating tree herds still survived.

Quickly tiring of watching the power and grandeur of a storm he had seen too many times before, Var turned away from the windows. Before exiting the Hall of Elders with its collection of relics spanning the nearly ten thousand year history of the family, Var's gaze fell on the item which most dominated the room: the powered exoskeletal warsuit Van-El, one of the most illustrious members of the family, had worn during the extended Clone War. Although with the perspective gained by a thousand year separation from the events, he had a hard time accepting that the term 'illustrious' should be associated with anyone on either side of the conflict. Particularly since civilization and the whole Rao-forsaken planet were still reeling from the aftereffects of the war.

And the whole Clone War had been so pointless. Not that the underlying cause wasn't just, but the rebels who had instigated the war had ultimately lost the thousand year battle. However in one of the greatest ironies of Kryptonian history, their position on the clone issue would be accepted by all of society within twenty years of their defeat.

For a moment the highlights of Kryptonian history, which the tele-learning machines had permanently engraved in his mind as a child, came to the forefront of his thoughts:

_Circa 3100 B.U. - The oldest archeological evidence of Kryptonians, dogs, monkeys, and apes all date from this period. All other Kryptonian life forms like drangs, flamedragons, and snagriffs display fossil records dating back millions of years. To scientists, this indicated the Kryptonian race and its closest biological relatives all developed on a different planet and were brought to Krypton in this time frame. It was therefore probably not a coincidence that the first evidence of an alien high-tech race, commonly referred to as the 'Marvaders', dates to within one hundred years of this time._

_Circa 1900 B.U. - Approximate date of the legendary 'Great Revolt' against the Marvaders. All evidence of the Marvaders disappears at this time and also all evidence of technological artifacts. The surviving Kryptonians begin an extended decline into savagery._

_0 A.U. - Erok-El conquers and unifies the old continent of Urrika creating the first great empire, which would survive for millennia. Additionally, Erok established Erkol, the first permanent city on Krypton. His son, who was the first to be named Kal-El, would be followed by twenty more generations of kings during the first great era of the House of El._

_Circa 700 A.U. - The first Age of Science begins with the development of the timepiece by Kil-Gor._

_1071 A.U. - An atomic accident destroys the ancient capitol city of Erkol. The Kryptonian race turns fanatically anti-science. A colony of scientists flees to the uninhabited continent of Lurvan to escape persecution._

_1094 A.U. - The colonists in Lurvan develop a slower-than-light space drive and use it to power an interstellar Ark on a one-way voyage to a planet they named Daxxum, which circled another red star._

_1094-6285 A.U. - The Great Dark Age of Krypton with religious-style persecution of all appearances of science._

_6285 A.U. - Krypton is invaded and conquered by the alien Vrang race, who reintroduced science._

_6357 A.U. - Through stolen Vrang technology, the Kryptonians, led by Hatu-El, defeat the Vrang. The second Age of Science begins._

_6571 A.U. - Cloning process for the production of replacement body parts is perfected._

_6571-7237 A.U. - The Golden Age of art and culture on Krypton._

_7237 A.U. - Nrya Lugo-Zee allows her number one clone to gain sentience with the plan to have the clone become the wife of her son, Ran-Zee. He was so horrified by his mother's actions; he killed her and the clone. This event is instrumental in starting the Clone War._

_7237-8251 A.U. - The Clone War is fought between the 'Clone Rights Movement', who abhor the use of 'Body Banks' filled with mindless fully grown clones to prolong the Kryptonian lifespan, and the Science Council. An offshoot branch of the Clone Rights Movement, the Black Zero, destroy the Kryptonian capital city of Kandor in an attack that kills forty million people._

_8251 A.U. - The Science Council defeats the Clones Rights Movement ending the Clone War, but not before serious and permanent ecological damage is done to the planet. Start of the age of pure emotionless science._

_8255 A.U. - Reconstruction of the capital city, Kandor, begins._

_8268 A.U. - A scientific means, based on bioengineering, is developed to prolong the lifespan without the need for clones. Possession of clones and cloning technology is banned._

_9309 A.U. - The present day. _(Author's Note: The Kryptonian year 9309 A.U. is equal to the Earth year 1934 A.D.)

Var shook his head to loosen the hold of the implanted knowledge; sometimes the tele-learning machines seemed to do too good of a job jamming the data in. Finally, as his head cleared, he found himself still staring at the ancient warsuit. For a moment he let the fantasy run through his head where he put on the powerful armor and used it to shake some sense into the Science Council.

Before the fantasy had completely played out, it was interrupted by the beeping of his communicator.

"Accept call," he said aloud, which was the signal for the house brain to activate the nearest tele-viewing screen.

The screen brightened to show the smiling face of Salva, his wife, sitting behind her desk at her office in Kryptonopolis.

"Greetings, my husband," she began formally, as etiquette demanded. Then with more warmth in her voice she continued. "How did the meeting with the Science Council go? Did you make any progress?"

As she spoke, Var walked out of the Hall of Elders and turned towards the gravity shaft leading to his lab. As he moved, the house brain automatically turned on tele-screens in front of him and turned off those he had already passed. Var paused as he reached the open shaft to focus his attention on Salva's face on the screen.

Shaking his head, he took a moment to explain, although he knew she didn't in her heart believe his data anymore than the Science Council did. Everyone thought the status quo could be maintained indefinitely. But at least she had the courtesy to humor him.

"Not well, but at least the Science Council here in Kryptonopolis has agreed to let me present my data to the Supreme Council in Kandor. Since we are going to be in Kandor next week for Zim's bonding ceremony, I am trying to schedule a time around then. Hopefully, it will be a little harder to ignore me, if I am actually in the room."

Salva nodded distractedly as someone's elbow came within range of the tele-camera pickup.

"Ah, Var, can you give me a minute? Something has come up that needs my attention."

"Certainly, my dear. I was on my way back to the lab. Give me five minutes to get there and get out of these Rao-damned formal robes."

Salva couldn't keep a small grin from flicking across her face. Only Var would use the name of an ancient God who had been discredit for millennia when he felt the need to let out a little of his frustration.

"Okay," was all she said. Var could see her attention had already focused back on her job before the screen even had time to go blank.

Turning back to the grav-shaft, Var calmly stepped off the edge into nothingness. Quickly his body floated out to the center of the fifteen foot diameter cylinder. His stomach gave the tiniest of lurches as the house brain made a final adjustment to the gravity wave projectors. Then his body rapidly accelerated down the tube; he covered the one and a quarter miles down to the lab level in twenty three seconds. Fortunately, the house brain was very good and there was no sense of falling or crushing acceleration and deceleration at the ends of the short trip. No, within the total darkness of the shaft, it felt like he was simply standing on an invisible sheet of glass.

The level on which Var had located his lab had originally been built at the base of the promontory to facilitate delivery of extremely large, bulky and heavy items, which couldn't easily be transported to the bluff far above. And in the end it was turning out to be surprisingly convenient that the cavernous space was where he had decided to set up his initial experiments. Now with his experiments almost at fruition, the unloading area was just the right size to contain the old intercontinental passenger liner he was retrofitting as his prototype test article.

But before he could get back to work, it was time to get rid of the formal over-robe required by ancient custom when meeting with the council. Stepping into the temporary living quarters the robots had set up on this level for his use while the ship was being retrofitted, he quickly stripped off the heavily brocaded gray mantel with its large white El family crest stretched across the full width of his chest. Before it had a chance to even reach the chair towards which he tossed it, a long, multi-jointed arm reached out and snagged it. Then another pair of arms held open his much more comfortable work cloak before him.

As he slid his arms into the offered silver cloak, he absent-mindedly responded with a 'Thanks, Unit Seven." The spidery-looking robot almost seemed to preen as it mimicked a small bow before trying to reach out and adjust the drape of his utility vestments. With just a hint of annoyance showing in his face, Var swatted the robot's arms away. This series of valet robots had always been too 'touchy-feely' for his taste. Once more he tried to figure when he could slip into his schedule a few hours for some reprogramming, but knew in his heart that programming valet robots was so far down on his list of priorities that it would simply never happen.

Heading towards the door which led from his apartment directly into the lab space, Var was stopped by his communicator once more announcing an incoming call. Var was pleasantly surprised to find his wife once again on the other end of the call; usually her 'I'll call back in five minutes' meant 'I'll call back in two or three hours'.

Fingering his marriage bracelet and realizing it had been over a week since he had been to the city to see his family, Var asked, "Are Zim and Byma back from their pilgrimage to the Jewel Mountains yet?"

Salva took a moment to glance down at the matching bracelet encircling her more slender and graceful wrist. Suddenly, it brought back memories of their own pre-wedding trip to the Jewel Mountains. It was hard for her to believe it had been almost eighteen years since their own pilgrimage. Legend said that the Jewel Mountains were entirely composed of the fossilized remains of long extinct giant birds which had a unique crystalline bone structure. Like most legends, the truth was more mundane. Yes, remains of giant birds with crystal-like bones could be found only in the Jewel Mountains, but they hardly represented a significant fraction of the mountain range's entire mass. Still, it had long been tradition for engaged couples to make the two month journey to find their wedding bands which had several million years earlier been the neck vertebrae of the crystal birds. Nowadays, it was rare for Kryptonian youths to be able to afford the costs of mounting an expedition into the hostile depths of the mountains and most acquired their bracelets through one of the marriage services. However members of the Kryptonian elite still usually upheld the tradition. And Salva was glad Zim and Byma had had this opportunity because she felt facing all the dangers, hardships, and enforced time together would either drive them apart or ensure a strong and lasting marriage.

"Not yet, but they did call to say they were on their way and should be home before this evening. Will you be home in time for dinner and the celebration?"

Var grimaced a little at how easily she referred to their place in the city as home. But then in eighteen years of marriage, she had never spent the night out here at the ancestral estate. So there was no reason for her to think of this as home.

Even though he knew he would answer yes to her question, he still took a moment to mentally review the status of his project. If the robots hadn't run into any unexpected problems while he was in session with the Science Council, three more hours worth of work should have everything ready for the first trial run using the equipment installed in the ship. He would have liked to make the initial attempt before meeting with the Supreme Council, but it was now looking unlikely as events related to the upcoming wedding would fill most of his time for the next week. Of course, a failure before the meeting would certainly not help his cause and he really didn't want anything to happen which would force him to miss his eldest son's marriage ceremony.

Var nodded towards his wife's image on the screen. "I have a couple more hours of work to do here, but I will be there in plenty of time for dinner."

Salva smiled with relief; sometimes Var put his experiments ahead of the needs of his family. Also, like many of the great scientists down through Kryptonian history, Var had a tendency to be absentminded about time when he was caught up in his work. After this call, she would call the house brain out at the estate and make sure it would remind Var when he needed to depart.

"Excellent, dear. You have been sequestered out there too long this trip, it will be good to see you in person."

Var nodded his agreement. "I know, but I have been making excellent progress. In fact, I am almost ready for a full-scale test. I will tell you all about it tonight."

Salva smiled indulgently to her husband. Most of his experiments had been abysmal failures, but his work kept him happy and left her free to run the family business as she saw fit. And she thought with pride of how the fortunes of the El family hadn't looked this bright in many generations.

"I look forward to hearing all about it. Until tonight then," she answered. And then, just before she broke the connection, she added a quiet, "I love you."

Var found himself smiling at the fading screen. Generally, Salva was the typical modern-day Kryptonian: cool, analytical, and business-like. Var sometimes thought he was the only living throwback to some lost romantic era, but then Salva would surprise him in some small way like the unexpected, 'I love you.'

Var stepped through the doorway into the large lab space which was almost entirely filled by the ship. Thirty robots were visible scuttling around the exterior of the ship and he knew at least three as many were working on the interior where all of the equipment was being installed.

The anti-gravity ship, _'Wegthor's Shadow'_', had served for over two hundred years on a route between Kandor and Kryptonopolis here on the Lurvan continent and Xan and Argo City on the Urrika continent on the opposite side of the world. The large encircling saucer section contained the anti-gravity and secondary drive systems, the environmental controls, and the engineering compartments. The central spherical section had been outfitted with four decks of luxury cabins which could accommodate one hundred eighty passengers, plus dining rooms, entertainment areas, and an upper command deck for the twenty-seven hour trip to the far side of the world.

The grand old ship had been the height of luxurious travel in its heyday, but the completion of the maglev tube system fourteen years earlier had sealed its fate. With the undersea tube system capable of mach 22 speeds, the intercontinental travel time had been cut from twenty-seven hours to a little over four.

But while the liner was obsolete for commercial travel, it was perfect for Var's purposes. Stripping out most of the passenger accommodations had provided space for the giant power generators needed to drive the teleportation equipment. With this configuration, theory said the ship should be able to reach a planet in another star system in a single jump. The teleportation equipment could just as easily transport a fixed facility, but Var wasn't sure what he would find at the other end of the jump and the mobility provided by using the ship seemed like a prudent precaution.

Shaking his head slightly at how easily he seemed to be distracted today, Var started across the floor of the lab towards the entry ramp of the ship. Of course, between the meeting with the Science Council and the imminent return of Zim and his intended from the Jewel Mountains, there had been good reason for it today. Still, if the ship was to be finished before his departure for Kryptonopolis this evening, he was going to have to focus.

With a firmer stride, Var picked up his pace and turned his thoughts to the final niggling issues of properly interfacing both the anti-gravity controls and the teleportation controls to the inputs of the ship's brain. Once more he wished he had been able to upgrade the ship's brain from its current Mark seventy-three configuration to something newer like a Mark one oh six. But the brain's main core was recessed deep within the anti-matter drive areas, and changing the brain out would have required pulling all of the anti-grav equipment. And the cost of doing that exceeded the value of the entire ship. Plus with a change that complex, it could take months, if not years, for the new brain to settle into ship operations. Hopefully, his decision to retain the existing brain and the anti-grav equipment wouldn't be the wrong one.

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Var inspected his semi-formal dark blue over-robe in the mirror of his dressing room. He had hoped it would just be the immediate family and Byma's parents for dinner, but once Salva had confirmed the children would be home for dinner, the invitations had quickly flowed out. When he had last queried the house brain, the dinner party had grown to seventy-five and had been moved from the more intimate dining hall to the great hall.

Deciding his appearance was acceptable, Var set off in search of his two younger children, Kayla and Jor. Not that they could hardly be considered children any longer with Kayla's fifteenth year celebration, when she would be officially recognized as an adult, coming up in two months and Jor already eleven and almost as tall as his father and older brother.

Hopefully, if he found them, they could spend a few minutes together before the guests started arriving. It had bothered him a lot when he realized during his trip into the city from the ancestral estate that in the two months Zim had been gone, he had barely seen any more of his other two children.

With ten minutes searching, Var found Jor in the conservatory. The conservatory provided a sweeping view of the Kryptonopolis skyline centered on the infamous Red Tower that soared to almost eight thousand feet and which had driven the size and shape of the fifteen mile wide crystalline dome grown to protect the city. But Jor was oblivious to the view as he sat hunched over a tele-tablet. Walking up and glancing over his son's shoulder, Var expected to see the latest emotive cinema extravaganza playing on the screen, but instead it was filled with dry text and photos from what was obviously an archeological dig of some kind.

"Still got the history bug, son? What is it today? Erok-El and his campaign to unify Urrika?"

Var watched as Jor looked up from the tele-tablet. Like most of the men in the El family, he was tall, lean, and had jet-black hair. Although at the moment his hair was dyed a shade of orange that almost hurt the eyes. Var was about to make a derogatory comment, but then recalled some of the fashion crazes of his own youth and bit his tongue. Jor had always been so bookish; maybe this hair statement was a good sign.

"Hello, father," began Jor with a respectful tone. "No, not Erok, something much earlier. A group of scholars from Argo City has uncovered some new ruins which appear to date from the earliest portion of the Marvader's occupation. This is right at the boundary where Kryptonians first seem to appear in archeological record. And they may have found the missing clue as to where we came from."

Var pulled up another chair and sat down beside his son. He hadn't heard anything about a new dig or a new discovery, but that wasn't usually his area of interest and he had been focused on getting the ship ready.

"What kind of clue?"

Jor smiled at this unexpected interest from his father. Usually, at the first mention of history or archeology his father lost interest. No, only physics seemed to arouse his father's passion and the math involved always quickly exceeded Jor's knowledge. Sometimes he found it so frustrating; waiting for the day when his mind would be mature enough to accept the advance mental techniques. Total recall, tele-implanted knowledge, and enhanced enthymeme skills all sounded so useful. Oh well, it was less than a year now until his twelfth birthday when he would finally be eligible to stand for the 'Purl Nous'.

"They have uncovered an inlaid floor that is a star map. With over twelve thousand years of stellar drift, they have so far only identified a handful of stars. But one of them, Sol, looks like a promising candidate. When the superluminary-telescope on Mithen was trained on that system, they found a planet with people who look just like us, as well as dogs and monkeys. Over the past two hundred years since the lunar observatory was completed, several planets have been discovered with one or two of these species, but never before one with all three."

Var found himself getting intrigued. He hadn't yet decided on a destination for his first test flight of the ship, but suddenly, visiting the world from which the Kryptonian race might have sprung sounded very appealing.

"Jor, what are the coordinates for this Sol system? I might want to do a little more research myself."

Jor made a couple of strokes across the surface of the tele-tablet and quickly a star map of the local region of the galaxy was displayed. A flashing symbol indicated Sol and next to it a string of coordinates were highlighted in red.

Var studied the display for a couple of seconds before reaching out with a gesture which caused the star map to rotate to several different view angles. Then he nodded to Jor that his memory had finished storing the scene and Jor's tele-tablet was once more his to control.

Before they could continue their conversation, the room was filled with the sound of the massive, five ton, solid-gold gong, which was located in the traditional niche in the entry hall, announcing the formal beginning of the evening's festivities.

Var rose to his feet. "Son, I would like to hear more about the findings of this dig, but I am afraid that is my signal to go mingle with the guests. Can we continue this discussion tomorrow after breakfast?"

Jor nodded eagerly. It wasn't often he got to spend time with his father two days in a row. He quickly thought of additional related items he wanted to research to be better prepared.

+ - + - + - + - + - +

Five days later the El and Ar families stood gathered outside the Palace of Marriage. The palace was located in a small wooded area on a hillside above the cultural district of Kandor. From where Var stood he could easily pick out the sprawling Hall of Worlds, the Hall of History and Technology, and the Museum of Antiquarian Art.

It was a beautiful day, but then every day was a beautiful day in Kandor. Oh, sometimes the sky above its dome was covered with clouds; however under the dome the weather was always perfect since the brains in charge of the climate control system only allowed rain during the pre-dawn hours.

Var looked with pride at his soon to be expanded clan. Then seeing his mother, Arra Mar-El, supporting his grandfather, Dakka-Ra, while standing next to Salva's mother, Sal Skal-Var, it once more drove home how much sacrifice seemed to be expected of the leading citizens of Krypton.

Var never knew is father, Mar-El, who died while Var was still an unborn infant in a matrix chamber at the Hall of Gestation. Mar had disappeared while on a mapping expedition to the northern Polar Regions with his father-in-law, Dakka-Ra. While trekking up a deep glacier-formed valley, the two men had come upon the initial landing site of the blue-skinned Kree. Like others before them, this alien race was intent on the conquest of Krypton. To protect their planet, the two men decided Mar would stay behind to monitor and stall the invaders while Dakka returned to Lurvan for reinforcements. It was a long, hard journey out of the frozen artic wastelands for Dakka, as the Kree were jamming all communications in a thousand mile radius. By the time he reached home and then returned with an army, over a month had passed. The Kryptonian army was able to defeat the Kree, but they never found any sign of what had happened to Var's father.

Since Var had been old enough to understand the story, he had always nourished the secret fantasy his father was still alive somewhere on the Kree home world. He had hoped his first test flight with his ship would be a rescue mission in search of his father, but so far he had been unable to locate the Kree home world.

With his father missing and now, thirty-two years later, probably dead, Var had grown up thinking of his grandfather, Dakka, more like his father than his grandfather. And seeing how heavily Dakka was forced to lean on his daughter for support, it pained Var to realize how much the old man had aged in the past few years. At this rate, he might not survive long enough to witness the future weddings of Var's two younger children. Therefore Var intended to make this the happiest day possible for Dakka.

Of course, it wasn't just his side of the family which had made the ultimate sacrifice for the greater good of Krypton. No, Salva's father, Skal-Var, had also died, but at least Salva had been ten before it happened so she had some clear memories of him to cherish.

Skal-Var had been one of the leading missile guidance system experts of his day. Unfortunately, designing autonomous brains for exo-atmospheric missiles had still been in its infancy when the giant, killer comet had been discovered on a collision course with Krypton. Several missile launches were attempted to destroy the comet and against an ordinary comet they would have probably worked. However this comet had had a massive spinning iron core, which as it approached Krypton's red sun, had started to generate a powerful electro-magnetic field the missile brains were never designed to handle. With time running out to design, grow, integrate, and test a new brain before the comet would strike, Skal had secretly boarded one of the missiles and personally guided it to its target. It wasn't until the planet had been saved that Skal's sacrifice had been discovered. Skal had been posthumously awarded Krypton's highest medal, the Star of Rao, and a statue of him had been erected in the Hall of Worlds.

Thoughts of Skal-Var's statue brought Var full-circle to the marriage tradition where statues of celebrated ancestors were brought to the Palace of Marriage to bear witness to their descendants' weddings. Var just hoped neither Zim nor his bride, Byma, would be asked one day to make the ultimate sacrifice for Krypton like Mar-El, Skal-Var, or so many of the others of the family whose statues would be present for today's ceremony.

Var tried to shrug off the perpetual sense of gloom that seemed to have clouded his thoughts since he first made his discovery of the planet-threatening trends in Krypton's environmental conditions five years earlier, thoughts which were now amplified by thinking of Mar and Skal. Because, if he was willing to admit what he knew in his heart to be true, it was not Zim or Byma he was worried about joining Mar and Skal in martyrdom, but himself. Before Krypton's leaders and people would accept his conclusions, he, too, might have to make the ultimate sacrifice.

But that day was not today, Var knew, as he forced a cheerful smile onto his face before taking Salva's hand and guiding her over to where their mothers and his grandfather stood.

When they reached the others, Var gestured with his free hand towards the entryway. "Sal, Mother, Grandfather, the ceremonial chamber should be ready now. Shall we proceed?"

Before any of them could respond, Var's daughter, Kayla, joined the group. "Oh, Father. Can't we wait until Byma and her parents arrive? I want to see her gown."

Var looked at his tall, blonde daughter standing beside her dark-haired mother. She was dressed in a diaphanous sky-green gown enriched with hundreds of tiny green firestones to complement the strand of larger gems adorning her throat. The bride was supposed to be the most beautiful woman on her wedding day, but it was hard to imagine how Byma could possibly look more beautiful than Kayla.

"Kayla, there will be plenty of time to admire her gown after the ceremony. Now, find your brother, Jor, and meet us inside."

Kayla momentarily got a familiar pouty expression on her face because she hadn't gotten her way, but then she seemed to remember this was Zim and Byma's day, not hers.

"Yes, Father," she answered before heading off towards a group of benches in the small courtyard around the corner where she had last seen Jor sitting and, as usual, working on a portable tele-tablet. Kayla never understood Jor's fascination with history when there were so many interesting things in the present to focus on.

After watching Kayla head off, Var turned and stepped to the opposite side of Dakka from his mother. Then gesturing with his free hand towards the building's entrance, the party set off.

The Palace of Marriage had been used by the elite of the continent of Lurvan ever since the continent had been permanently settled almost three thousand years earlier. Well, it had been continuously used except for the three hundred year period from the destruction of Kandor during the Clone War until the city was rebuilt.

The wedding chamber itself was a large oval room with space for one thousand, yet by tradition, only the immediate family would be present for the actual ceremony. The room's perimeter was lined with sixty-three ornate columns forming niches where the statues of the prominent ancestors would be placed. Today, with this joining of two of the oldest and most powerful families, all of the available niches were occupied.

As Var and the others entered the chamber, it seemed just as beautiful as the last time he had been there for his own marriage ceremony. As he looked up, Var noticed how the crystal roof had been polarized to create giant versions of the El and Ar family crests. If the ceiling had manifested the same effect at his own wedding, he had been too preoccupied to notice.

However, while he might not have noticed the crystal ceiling in his dazed state at his own wedding, he certainly remembered the room's centerpiece, the Jewel of Honor. This large, eight foot diameter multi-faceted firestone was mounted on a short pedestal. Most firestones were a single color like the green ones in Kayla's gown and necklace, but the giant Jewel of Honor was the rarest kind. It was predominantly red, but different colored lights seemed to flicker around its interior almost as if it was alive. According to tradition, any couple who said their vows while standing on this gemstone was assured a fruitful marriage. Of course, if Var wanted to be cynical, he could say this guarantee of children had nothing to do with the Jewel of Honor and everything to do with the second part of the ceremony where the newly wedded couples had, for the past eight hundred years, immediately proceeded to the Hall of Gestation and left the required biological samples.

The roots of the Hall of Gestation could be found in the period of rapid bio-engineering advances which occurred immediately after the conclusion of the Clone War. Garf-Og, one of the greatest scientists in the history of Krypton, discovered a method to greatly enhance an individual's mental development. The first stage in the two step process involved introducing genetic and hormonal materials at frequent intervals throughout fetal development as well as prenatal manipulation of the natural electro-magnetic fields of the brain's cortex. None of these processes were practical in a mother's womb, but could be achieved in an artificial environment. The second stage of the process occurred on the recipient's twelfth birthday and was popularly referred to as 'Purl Nous'. On that occasion, vast quantities of data were forced into the mind in one massive burst. A brain which had been genetically enhanced before birth responded to the overload condition by creating an enormous set of new links and pathways between the neurons. Once Garf-Og perfected his method, the recipients of the process all had nearly photographic memories and roughly three times the analytical capabilities of the average Kryptonian. Within ten years of the verification of Garf-Og's results, the technique became mandatory for all citizens of Krypton. So with the birth of the following generation of Kryptonians, the Age of the Hall of Gestation and the Era of the Superminds began.

Var led his small group over to a row of formal, high-backed chairs with the El family crest emblazoned on the back and seat cushions. These chairs were located to the right of the Jewel of Honor, as tradition demanded for the groom's side of the family. On the opposite side of the raised jewel were a matching set of chairs for the bride's side of the family.

Kayla and Jor had barely joined them when the mighty bell began to toll, announcing the commencement of the ceremony. As the final peal echoed to silence, a distinguished older gentleman stepped from a doorway beyond the Jewel and ascended to its upper surface. Even though only fourteen people were present in the magnificent room, a hush still seemed to fall across them as they realized the man was Dev-Dal, the head of the Supreme Council. Var had called in quite a few favors to get Dal, as he had only officiated at three other marriage ceremonies in the past decade. Var felt the appreciative glances from people on both sides of the jewel and knew a moment of pride that he had been able to arrange this honor for his oldest son and his bride. Then it was necessary for him to consciously maintain the smile on his face as he thought of what Salva's reaction would be if she found out the real reason he had worked so hard to get Dal here was to have a little one-on-one conversation to set the groundwork before his scheduled meeting with the Supreme Council in two days time. But then he remembered how Salva had always been a better politician than he, so she might actually applaud his efforts to 'kill two snagriffs with a single stone'.

"Welcome," boomed out Dev-Dal in a voice intended to address a standing room only public meeting of the council rather than the intimate company assembled for the ceremony. "In the name of the Supreme Council, the Science Council, the Assembly of Elders, and the whole people of Krypton, I bid you welcome on this most joyous of days."

With the traditional opening words complete, the magnificent marriage bell once more rang out. Everyone rose to their feet and turned towards the doorway through which the betrothed couple would enter.

As the bell fell silent, Zim and Byma made their entrance wearing blood-red, hooded robes that left only their eyes visible. The totally concealing vestments were one of the last vestiges of the horrific times the Kryptonian people had experienced during the seventy year subjugation by the Vrang. While those dark times were now over three thousand years in the past, they still left their mark on the psyche of the race. The Vrang, an insectoidal derived race, had had a hive based mentality which abhorred any hint of individuality or even gender. During their overlordship, the people of Krypton had been forced at all times to wear garments which completely concealed their identities. Only during secret wedding ceremonies did they risk discarding the enveloping robes. After the Vrang were ultimately driven off world, the tradition of starting the wedding in the historic hooded robes had been continued.

Slowly, with a time-honored pace, the betrothed couple circled the room pausing to bow before each of the statues as Dev-Dal proclaimed the ancestor's name. After the homage to the departed was complete, they bowed left and right to the living members of their families before finally ascending the Jewel of Honor to stand before Dev-Dal.

"Welcome Zim-El and Byma Ruth-Ar. Today, you stand before your assembled families to publicly proclaim your love for each other and your intention to become one in the eyes of the state with all of the duties and responsibilities that entails. As our forefathers once shook off the shackles that bound them and the robes that hid them and proclaimed their Kryptonian heritage in throwing the accursed Vrang off-planet, are you now ready to throw off your cloak and take up your place as citizens of Krypton?"

"We are," responded the pair with just a hint of a tremor in their voices as the enormity of the day took its toll. Under Kryptonian law, only partial citizenship was conferred when a youth became an adult at fifteen. Full citizenship with the right to vote, hold public office, be the majority owner in a business and many other critical rights and responsibilities was not conferred until marriage. So this ceremony had important civil as well as emotional impact on Zim and Byma's lives and futures.

"Then cast forth your robes and stand proudly as Kryptonians in the light of our glorious red sun."

Zim and Byma threw back their hoods and then quickly ripped off the red robes and dropped them to the surface of the jewel. Beneath the robes they both wore under-tunics of a light gold color. These tunics quickly took on a slightly reddish hue as the crystal roof was adjusted to create a beam of light directed onto the couple.

"Please raise the symbols of your joining into the light and repeat after me," continued Dev-Dal.

Zim and Byma retrieved their bracelets from within their tunics and lifted them high up into the light. Immediately, these neck vertebrae from the long-extinct giant crystal birds became to glitter and glow. As they stared up at bracelets and felt them begin to warm in response to the powerful light, they both remembered the highs and lows of the two months they had spent trekking through the Jewel Mountains in search of these pieces of nearly indestructible mineral. There had been arguments, fights, and making up. But it wasn't until their nearly catastrophic encounter with the flame dragon that they had truly understood the meaning of being a united couple where the welfare of your partner was always more important than your own.

"We stand here in the light and proclaim our eternal commitment to each other," began Dev-Dal before pausing to allow the others to repeat the oath.

"We shall defend our hearts and homes against all who seek to break this union."

"We shall do our sacred duty to ensure the future and safety of our race and our planet."

"We shall honor our family and our ancestors through our thoughts and deeds."

And so the recitation continued until all twenty-seven verses had been spoken and acknowledge.

Finally, Dev-Dal raised his hand to clasp the couple's raised hands and bring the bracelets into contact.

Lowering their hands he continued softly. "You may now exchange your bracelets."

Staring into each other's eyes, they quickly slipped the bracelet they were holding onto their opposite's left wrist. Once the bracelets were in place, they each raised their bracelet to their partner's lips for the traditional kiss.

As they stepped back, Dev-Dal continued, "Congratulations. You may now replace your robes."

Zim and Byma reached down and retrieved their discarded red robes. But before putting them back on, the robes were reversed so the inner silver metallic surface was now exposed.

Once the silvery robes were back in place and Dev-Dal finished a quick final adjustment, he looked past the couple and proclaimed to the assembled families. "Arise and meet the newest citizens of Krypton."

As soon as everyone was standing, he continued. "I am proud and honored to present Zim-El and Byma Zim-El."

As he announced their names, he signaled for the newly united pair to turn and face their families. It wasn't until this moment that the family members could clearly see what they knew all along would be there. The fronts of their silver robes were both adorned with large, metallic-blue copies of the El family crest.

The El family members were the first to start up a round of applause for these newest full members of the El family, however the members of the Ar family were quick to follow suit.

Before the clapping had a chance to fully die out, Zim and Byma descended from the Jewel of Honor. As tradition dictated, Zim first led Byma over to her side of the family, where she said her formal good-byes. Then he led her over to his family where she was welcomed with open arms, again as required by tradition. Not that giving her a hug was in any sense a hardship, as Byma was extremely beautiful and had been almost a member of the family for the past year. Certainly, she had easily spent more than double the amount of time with her new family than Var had.

As soon as etiquette had been satisfied, Byma turned to Kayla. "Kayla, how about helping me change before the celebration begins?"

Kayla smiled and nodded. "Of course, I have been dying to see your gown."

Byma gave Zim a quick peck on the cheek and then the girls were off to the changing room.

+ - + - + - + - + - + - +

Var stepped up to the podium across from the table where the seven members of the Supreme Council sat. He couldn't fully suppress the slight queasiness he felt in his stomach. His preliminary meeting with Dev-Dal at the marriage celebration hadn't gone particularly well. And now, looking at the stern, impassive faces of the other six members, he had the sinking feeling that it was going to be just like the session with the Science Council a week earlier.

"Good afternoon, Tanthes. I am here today about the greater good of the Kryptonian people," opened Var with the traditional words required to remind everyone present of the purpose of the Council. As he said the words, Var couldn't help but think that this time there was more truth in them then at almost any other time. He was there about the greater good, if saving the race from its ultimate destruction counted. And remembering his purpose helped calm him.

Var paused for a moment to look out across the room. Rarely did the Council meet in closed session. And when it did, he assumed a group of functionaries would still typically be present, but not today. No, today only Var and the Council members were present. It could only mean they had every intention to censure him and that they didn't want the public appearance that they even tacitly agreed with his position by the mere fact he had been allowed to address them.

"Tanthes, you all know why I am here. Krypton and her people are in grave danger and the time to act is now, before it is too late." Var tapped a command into the small tele-tablet on the podium before him and instantly the giant tele-screen mounted to one side between him and the council members sprang to life.

"The following data is a compilation of information for the past thousand years since the end of the Clone War. It is only in the last five years that it has become apparent the slow, steady decline in the viability of the planet is not linear, but exponential."

Var threw up charts in rapid succession, knowing with everyone's photographic memories they could then mull over the data while he continued his presentation.

**Remaining arable land without protective domes:** _Reaches zero in twenty-seven years._

**Disappearance of native land-based Kryptonian fauna:** _Reaches one hundred percent in thirty-one years._

**Disappearance of native land-based Kryptonian flora:** _Reaches one hundred percent in thirty-four years._

**Disappearance of native aquatic Kryptonian fauna:** _Reaches one hundred percent in thirty-six years._

**Disappearance of native aquatic Kryptonian flora:** _Reaches one hundred percent in thirty-nine years._

**Frequency of mega-ion storms:** _Reaches one hundred percent in thirty-seven years._

**Average surface wind speed:** _Reaches supersonic levels in forty-one years._

**Average radiation level:** _Exceeds lethal threshold in thirty-eight years._

**Frequency of factor six planetary quakes:** _Exceeds one per day in eighteen years._

**Frequency of factor nine planetary quakes: ** _Exceeds one per day in thirty-three years._

**First factor fourteen planetary quake: ** _Thirty-six years._

Var had reshuffled the order of his data at the last minute to show the quake data last since this was the most likely data to attract the Council's attention after the morning's news report. Last night, a factor eight quake had struck with an epicenter forty miles from Xan and had caused a massive crack in that city's protective dome. What would life be like in thirty-three years when an order of magnitude greater quake struck somewhere on the planet every day? And what would a factor fourteen quake, with a million times the energy level of the Xan quake, do to the planet? Var couldn't even begin to imagine the level of destruction.

As the data flow on the giant tele-screen ground to a halt, Var once again spoke up.

"Any one of these items is sufficient to make the continued existence of our race on this planet unsustainable. Taken together, Krypton, as we know it, will end somewhere between thirty and forty years from now."

Before Var could continue, he was interrupted by Ken-Em, the leading mathematician on the Council.

"I think you are making too much of the recent portion of the data. It looks to me like it is just normal fluctuation around a linear curve. I believe we have at least five thousand years before any of the items you listed will come to pass."

Var stared at Ken-Em for a moment. How could he consider data where all the deviation from linear was on one side of the curve to be normal fluctuation?

"Tanth Em, surely you must see the way all of the data is trending above a linear line is the classic sign of the knee in an exponential curve? Even my son, who hasn't yet stood for 'Purl Nous', could take the second derivative and see the resulting value is positive and that the curves are accelerating."

Ken-Em shook his head no, but refused to meet Var's eye.

Before the mathematical impasse lingered too long, Dev-Dal stepped back into the conversation.

"Var-El, if, and I say if, we were to believe your interpretation of the data, what are you proposing?"

"I would think it is obvious, Tanth Dal. We have at most thirty years to evacuate the planet. And with over six hundred million people to move and no plan in place or destination selected or means of transportation devised, thirty years sounds like barely enough. We need to . . . no we MUST mobilize the entire population to this task if we are to be successful."

Xad-Cee, the oldest member of the Council, sputtered indignantly and slowly rose to his feet to stare across the council floor at Var. "You would have us spread panic and turmoil throughout the planet on just your personal interpretation of this data? And where would you propose we go, if we were to leave Krypton? To join the Kree or the Vrang or . . ." and here even Cee's voiced dropped momentarily to a whisper, "or the Marvaders. Do you wish to see the same fate befall us as befell on our brethren on Daxxum?"

Here was the real crux of the situation, Var knew. After enslavement by several alien races and battles against even more, the Kryptonian race had developed a pathological xenophobia against aliens. There were many like Cee who would rather commit racial suicide than risk leaving the Kryptonian home planetary system. And based on his own studies, the xenophobia had become pronouncedly worse during the Age of the Superminds. Something about Garf-Og's process seemed to create a blind spot in this one area; everyone present had the ability to see the same trends in the data, but their minds refused to let them see the answer that was obvious and necessary. Sometimes Var wondered what was different about his own mind that let him see the truth which none of the others could accept. Had his 'Purl Nous' experience somehow been defective? Not that the ability to see the truth should be considered a defect.

"Tanth Cee, I believe there are other potential refuges besides joining our enemies. There must be countless unknown, uninhabited worlds out there. Or perhaps we could try contacting the Sol System which has been in the news recently after the archeological discoveries outside Argo City. We have all seen the tele-scopic pictures, they look just like us. Perhaps Sol is even our original home system. What better place for some of us to blend in unnoticed?"

Dev-Dal shook his head. "Any communication we send to the Sol System could be intercepted by our enemies. It is too risky."

Var took a deep breathe. He had hoped to sway them without mentioning his ship, because he knew they might react badly, but he didn't see any alternative. "I have been developing a new teleportation drive that can instantly take a ship from Krypton to the Sol System or any other system. No message need be sent that can be intercepted. I will be ready to begin the initial operational testing of the device in a few weeks. I would like the Council's support and backing for a mission to Sol to discuss terms for some or all of our people to relocated there. If relocating to Sol doesn't turn out to be feasible, I would expand my search to look for some uninhabited planet we could use."

All of the Council members sprang to their feet with shouts of: 'No.' 'It is forbidden.' 'Heresy.'

After a few seconds, Dev-Dal finally shouted for silence. When quiet returned to the Council Chamber, Dev-Dal slowly looked from one council member to the next until they all slowly nodded their heads in secret concurrence to some unspoken question.

All of the council members resumed their seats and restored the passive expressions of indifference to their faces they had shown when Var-El had first been shown into the chamber. Dev-Dal calmly pressed a button on the control panel before him on the council table. After a few seconds Var heard a click and then a side entrance to the chamber opened. Dressed all in black, Planetary Security Chief Yas-Blee marched into the chamber followed by four guards.

After the security men had taken up a position behind Var, Dev-Dal finally spoke.

"Var-El, you are hereby charged with treason against the people of Krypton. You will be kept under house arrest until your trial. The trial date is set for two months from today. Upon your return to Kryptonopolis, you will turn over control of your prototype ship to Yas-Blee."

Turning to the security chief, Dev-Dal continued. "Tanth Blee, please escort the accused from this chamber."

As Yas-Blee stepped forward, Var made one last plea to the council. "What city besides Argo City with its proximity to the Golden Volcano ever needed a protective dome before two hundred years ago? And look at things now; every city is under a dome or relocated underground. The danger is real. Ignoring it will not make it go away and only condemns our race to death."

Dev-Dal gave no response except to motion with his finger for security chief Blee to do his duty.

Var bowed his head in defeat before stepping away from the podium and turning towards the exit. He had never imagined this meeting could go so badly. Not only were they ignoring his data and putting him under arrest, they were going to confiscate HIS ship. And suddenly his ship seemed like the only hope of survival for himself, his family, and his whole race. If he could use the ship to find a safe refuge for his people, perhaps then the council would listen.

With the decision made, Var squared his shoulders and marched resolutely from the Council Chamber.

+ - + - + - + - + - + - + - +

Var was surprised when Yas-Blee and his security guards escorted him to a private maglev car for the fifteen minute, 700 mile subterranean trip back to Kryptonopolis. Apparently, Dev-Dal and the Supreme Council weren't ready yet to announce his arrest or the reason. Therefore he could hardly travel with these security men on a public car. Oh, he might have been mostly a recluse, living out on the old family estate and working on his projects, but he was still the current patriarch of the legendary El family and he would be recognized, particularly since he was prominently wearing the family crest on the upper left portion of his tunic.

By the time they reached Kryptonopolis, Var had devised an excuse to require them to stop at the house in the city before continuing out to the estate where _Wegthor's Shadow _was still located. Var knew once they reached the estate he was going to have to make his move and there wouldn't be any time after that to say his goodbyes to his family.

When they reached his house, the four security guards remained in the front entryway and only Yas-Blee accompanied him while he went to talk to Salva.

They found her in her home office tele-conferencing with the managers of the El family operations in Kandor, Antarctic City, Vathlo Island, and Xan. When she saw Yas-Blee with her husband, she quickly ended the meeting.

"What is the word from Xan?" asked Var to open the conversation.

Salva's eyes flicked over to the planetary security chief for a second before she answered. "Not Good. The quake couldn't have hit at a worse time. They were experiencing a severe ion storm when it hit and the dome was cracked. The whole western side of the city had to evacuate to the emergency underground shelters. It is going to take at least a week to regrow the dome to close the crack. At least our operations and most of our employees and their families were in the eastern side of the city, so things could have been a lot worse for us."

Salva paused and then shot a meaningful glance back and forth between the two men which asked, without words, why Yas-Blee was there.

Var sighed; there wasn't any easy way around the truth. "The meeting with the Supreme Council didn't go well. They intend to put me on trial for treason in two months and until then I am under house arrest. And as if that wasn't enough, we are headed out to the estate; Yas-Blee is here to confiscate my prototype ship."

Salva's face blanched at the news. She never expected this result from Var's meeting. She had fully expected the Council would brand Var a crackpot for his theories, but never that he would be brought up on charges of treason. Why would they take such an extreme step? Was there actually some truth in Var's claims and were they punishing him for it?

"Are the children around?" Var asked as casually as possible.

Hopefully his tone had fooled Yas-Blee, because Salva knew him too well. She had instantly understood Var was planning to take some kind of drastic action and that he didn't expect to see his family again anytime soon.

"Ah, Zim and Byma are on their way to Xan to help out with the emergency, but Kayla and Jor should be home from school by now. Let me have the house brain track them down," answered Salva.

"Is speaking to them right now really necessary?" asked Blee. "It should only take us a few hours out at the estate and then we will be back."

Var turned to look at the security chief. "Tanth Blee, regardless of how hard the Supreme Council tries to keep things quiet, it will be only a few hours, at most, before word of my arrest gets out. I believe it is my right to be the one to explain things to my children before they hear about it on the news or from one of their friends."

Blee looked for a moment like he was going to continue to object to the delay, but then he nodded.

Salva flipped a switch on her desk and spoke into the pickup requesting that the house brain locate Kayla and Jor and ask them to come to her office.

While they waited for the children to arrive, the three of them made idle small talk. But Salva couldn't keep her eyes off Var. What was he about to do? Would she ever see him again? It seemed like only yesterday that they had first met while performing the mandatory year of service in the defensive forces, which had been a requirement of all adult Kryptonians since the Kree invasion attempt thirty-two years ago. Fortunately, they had had a lot of good, happy years together and three wonderful children. If Var was forced to do something from which there was no coming back, she would see to the needs of the family.

Kayla and Jor arrived at their mother's office at the same time. As soon as they stepped through the doorway, they knew something was wrong. With his sharp predatory nose, cool gray eyes, and the faint scar running from the outer edge of his right eye down to his missing earlobe, it was impossible not to recognize Yas-Blee, the third most powerful man on the Krypton during peace times and the warlord of the entire planet during times of martial law.

Quickly their father rose to his feet. "Kayla, Jor, please take a seat." And he gestured to the coach below the long mural of the El estate out on the promontory; a picture created back in the long ago days before ion-storms had driven it underground.

Crouching down to be at eye-level with them, he continued. "I wanted you to hear this from me before you heard it somewhere else. The Supreme Council has charged me with treason against the state. I don't believe what I had to say is against the best interests of the people of Krypton and hopefully I will be vindicated at the trial. But you need to be ready when people and maybe even your friends start to say bad things about me. I need you to be strong and handle things stoically, as members of the El family have always done down through history."

Jor just stared wide-eyed at his father. No one was ever charged with treason - that was something which only happened in the emotive films.

"Why have you been charged, Father?" asked Kayla, who was as much in shock as her brother.

Var rose back to his feet. He hoped the look of longing on his face wasn't too obvious to Blee. He really wanted to give Kayla and Jor a long hard hug, but that would be too much out of character. "Kayla, we will discuss it tonight after dinner. At the moment, Tanth Blee and I have to run a quick errand out to the estate, but I promise we will go over everything when we get back. Okay?"

Kayla nodded and then Var looked to Jor. Jor nodded and then asked, "Can I come out to the estate with you, Father?"

Var shook his head, although he was secretly pleased with his son's request. "Not today. But I should have plenty of time to do it another day later this week."

Jor nodded.

Var turned to Yas-Blee. "Shall we be going?"

Blee rose from his chair and stepped to the door. Var followed and then paused momentarily to look back at Salva. He had thought to make some final goodbye to her, but he could see her eyes tearing up and didn't want to force a scene that might scare the kids or disrupt what he had to do. Finally he settled for a small nod of his head. Salva returned the nod and tried to smile, but it looked like she was about to cry as she was forced to blink hard. With a deep ragged breath, Var squared his shoulders and follow Blee down the hallway towards the front entrance of the house.

+ - + - + - + - + - + - +

It was a short five minute ride by anti-grav car to the airlock exit from the Kryptonopolis dome. Once outside it took them ten more minutes to reach the El estate. In the late afternoon light, the sky was turning an emerald green and the promontory in which the house was buried was casting an ominous-looking, long dark red shadow.

As they approached, Var glanced to the southeast at the majestic Fire Falls glowing brilliantly in its sheltered chasm. Would he ever see it again? More importantly, would he ever see his family again? He forced himself to think positively. He could return when he had found a safe refuge for his family and hopefully the rest of the inhabitants of Krypton. It would probably end up being very difficult. And it would probably take a long time. But no matter what it took, he had to succeed. Failure in his mission wasn't an option. Because whether they admitted it or not, the others were all in mortal danger.

For a moment, Var considered directing them to land in the garage in the upper hillside on the main level of the estate, but ultimately decided to direct them to the hanger level at the base of the hill where the ship was located. Landing up top had the potential to separate Blee and his men from their transportation when he made his move. But he decided Blee probably knew about the hanger level and would be more suspicious if Var directed them elsewhere.

As they got close, Var used his communicator to direct the house brain to open the main hanger door. He had been afraid that Blee would try to prevent his talking with the house brain, not that it would have made any difference. Whether Blee ordered the house brain to open the doors or Var did it himself, without giving the 'safeing' code phrase, the result would be the same. The brain would know they were coming in hot and it would automatically start things in motion.

Back in the earliest days of the Clone War, Van-El's traitorous nephew, Nat-El, had led members of the Clones Rights Movement in an attempt to take the estate using his personal knowledge of its defenses. It had been luck as much as skill, strength, and bravery which had allowed Van-El to ultimately prevail. But ever since then, the masters of the El family always had security measures and backup plans in place about which no outsider or even other family members knew.

Therefore, as the small security runabout they were using paused outside and the mammoth four hundred foot wide by one hundred twenty foot tall armored door slowly slid open, Var knew the house brain would have already started the power-up sequence for the ship and begun to move the robotic workers into position.

Blee's pilot didn't bother to wait, but flew inside before the door was a quarter of the way open. Of course, any child of four could have easily flown through an opening that was already ten times the width of the little security vessel.

As they passed through the doorway, _Wegthor's Shadow _came into view filling most of the available interior space of the hanger as it sat on its three extended legs. Var directed the pilot to land his craft between _Wegthor's Shadow and_ the door. Var figured this would give Blee a sense of confidence, which would help keep his guard down. And it really didn't make any difference. _Wegthor's Shadow's _three foot thick Kryptonillium hull could crush the little ship without suffering a scratch, if it became necessary.

As the runabout was powering down, Var led Blee and his guards out and onto the hanger floor. Var couldn't help but pause and take a moment to gaze up at his ship. The defense forces had ships that were bigger, faster, and armed, but none of them could match the beauty and elegance of the old liner.

Blee stepped up beside Var and followed his gaze. "She is a beauty, Var-El. I still regret the day she and her sister ships went out of service. Oh, the new maglev system is much more convenient, but there was nothing like cruising over the North Pole at altitude on the run to Argo and watching dawn break over the ice fields from the lower observation level."

"Yeah," Var agreed. "I am just glad I was able to salvage at least one of them in the end."

After staring at the grand old ship for another minute, Blee broke the silence. "Shall we get this over with?"

Var continued to stare at the ship for a few more seconds to give the house brain as much time as possible to get things ready. Finally, he nodded. "Let's do it."

As he started to walk, Var spoke into his communicator and directed the ship's brain to lower the access ramp. The ramp immediately started to slide down and Var angled his path slightly to head for the spot where it would touch the floor. Passing under the edge of the outer saucer section, Var spared a quick glance up. Immediately he picked out the shapes of at least a dozen of the repair robots clinging tightly to the underside of the ship along the path he was taking. Hopefully, Blee and his men wouldn't notice their presences along the shadowy underbelly of the craft until it was too late.

Trying to maintain a passive posture for the seven seconds it would take to reach the optimum position, Var used the time to bring up in his mind the star coordinates of the Sol System he had read from Jor's tele-tablet a week earlier. Once things started, he might only have seconds to get the data loaded into the ship's brain.

If he hadn't know what was coming, Var felt like he might have jumped out of his skin as the robots released their grips on the ship and came crashing down amongst Blee's men. Three of them managed direct hits and knocked their targets to the ground. The others landed close enough and in a couple of seconds Blee and all of his men had been immobilized hand and foot before any of them had been able to draw a weapon.

"Don't do this, Var-El," commanded Yas-Blee from where he stood restrained by two giant ten-foot tall robots. "It will only make matters worse."

"I am honor bound to do what I believe is necessary to save Krypton, whether the Supreme Council agrees or not. Surely you of all people understand that," answered Var. He didn't wait for a response from Blee, but immediately raced for the ramp. As he ran, he commanded the house brain to begin jamming all frequencies before Blee could call for help.

While he was still climbing the ramp, he directed the ship's brain to bring the anti-gravity coils online and then he started feeding it the star coordinates for the Sol System. When he reached the top of the ramp, he hit the ramp retract button and then told the ship's brain to retract the landing gear as soon as possible.

Var felt the thrum of power coursing through the deck plates, but before the gear began to retract a giant shockwave rolled through the ship and knocked Var to his knees. As he climbed to his feet he turned from the grav-shaft, which had been his destination, to the emergency ladder instead. He didn't know what had just happened, but this wasn't the time to risk a forty foot fall, if the ship lost power while he was part way up to the command level.

"Ship, what just happened?" he barked into his communicator.

+-+**Three Defense Force Cruisers have just de-orbited and are on course to reach here in three minutes. The lead ship fired a class three ion blast which struck four hundred twenty seven feet outside the main door. I would categorize it as a warning shot**. +-+

Great, thought Var. Obviously I wasn't the only one who had contingency plans in place. I bet turning on the jamming fields was the trigger. Of course, if the jamming fields weren't turned on, Blee could have called down the ships himself.

"Ship, status of anti-grav and teleportation drives?"

**+-+ Anti-grav drive is online, the gear has been retracted, and the ship is ready to move. The teleportation drive will be online in three minutes, thirty seconds**. +-+

Wonderful. The cruisers will be here in three minutes and the teleportation drive won't be online until thirty seconds later. Just wonderful.

"Ship, hold position until the nearest cruiser is thirty seconds out. Then move out at full power and immediately execute a one hundred eighty degree turn and head up Bolenth Canyon staying below the ridge line."

**+-+ Confirmed**. +-+

Var raced up the ladder. He had less than two minutes to climb six levels to the command deck and it suddenly seemed like a good idea to be strapped into one of the seats. It looked like things were about to get bumpy.

One minute and thirty seconds later, Var was breathing hard as he stepped off the ladder and pushed open the door onto the uppermost level of the ship. Without pausing for breathe, he ran down the corridor to the bridge. As soon as he stepped into the room, he started shouting orders. 

"Ship, secure all pressure bulkheads. Give me a situational display on the tele-screen with countdowns to our departure time and to when the teleportation drive will be online."

Var felt a faint shudder run through the ship as the emergency bulkheads slammed into place. As he started fastening the webbing on the command chair, he saw eight seconds remained until the first cruiser would be within the thirty second range. The clock for the teleportation drive was still at forty-three seconds.

He had just gotten the last buckle secured when the ship launched out of the hanger. His head was thrown back against the headrest as the acceleration quickly climbed from four G's to eight. Then almost instantly he was thrown violently to the side as the ship rolled hard to starboard to begin the turn up the nearby canyon.

The hard turn rolled the ship up on its side until the right edge of the saucer section almost touched the ground. The maneuver left the lower surface of the ship exposed and three quarters of the way through the turn a massive explosion ripped through the ship.

"Ship, status report!"

**+-+ We have suffered a direct hit from a class six ion blast on the underside of the ship. Seventy-six percent of the anti-grav coils on the left side of the ship are damaged or destroyed**. +-+

"Ship, can we still maneuver?"

**+-+ For the moment. I am attempting to stop a cascading failure of the remaining coils on that side of the ship. I can maintain control for a minimum of three more minutes, if we don't suffer another hit**. +-+

Wonderful. "Ship, status of teleportation drive?"

+-+ **Undamaged. Teleportation drive will be online in eleven seconds**. +-+

"Ship, continue up the canyon at best possible speed. Fly an evasive pattern as space and maneuvering capability permits."

+-+ **Confirmed**. +-+

Var watched the seconds tick down as he continued to be violently thrown around within his restraints. As the timer counted down towards zero, he wished he had had an opportunity to test the teleportation drive before this. It would be pretty ironic to have risked everything only to have the drive turn out to be a failure.

The timer was down to three seconds when the ship called out. +-+ **Warning! Warning! Incoming round**. +-+

While the ship continued to twist and turn, Var reached over with his right hand and touched the marriage bracelet encircling his left wrist. As the timer continued to count down, his last thoughts were of Salva and their children.

At the same instant the timer reached zero, a massive class ten ion blast lit up the canyon. When the glow finally faded, a new half mile wide spherical crater, centered on the position of the _Wegthor's Shadow, _straddled the canyon. Of the grand old ship, not a single trace remained.

End of Chapter 15

Author's Notes -

Well, there it is my first attempt at writing about a somewhat alien civilization. Hopefully with the grav-shafts, house brains, and maglev trains I was successful in creating a sort of 1950's 'World of Tomorrow' feel to the chapter.

What else? If you feel so inclined, you might go back and convert some of the Kryptonian years to Earth years. There are a few hints buried in this chapter of things to come - both near-term and long-term.

Athenais -

Thanks for the correction on my German in the last chapter. I am afraid the couple of years of high school German I had were a long, long time ago and I just used Babelfish to translate those couple of sentences. I knew it probably wasn't quite right, but felt the impact of using German to drive home Clark's frustration at not being able to communicate with Var-El was important for that point in the chapter.

Serran -

I haven't yet really thought out the next section in detail as regards to Lana. Having an extended period of time pass from her perspective before she returns is an interesting thought. I will keep it in mind.

Winthjo -

So, I know you have been reading Smallville fanfiction for a few months now. When are you going to give something back to the group and give us a story? It is obviously not that hard, if I can do it!

Crimson Starlight -

So, have you really read 'The Portal' four times? Wow, I am so flattered. I thought I was the only one who had read it more than once. Thanks for the kind words.

rhenq -

Are there really multiple sites recommending my stories? I had no idea. If you (or anyone else) could e-mail me a link, I would appreciate it. And thanks for the big compliment, but be careful or my head will no long fit through doors :)

+ - + - + - + - +

As always, thanks to everyone else who sent a review or an e-mail. They are always appreciated.

Have a great day!

Duane

duane at duaneaakre dot com


	16. Biological Families Chapter 16

Updated on 9/18/05

Biological Families – Chapter 16

Part 1

"Miss Lang! Miss Lang!" shouted Sarah Gardner, as she raced up from where she had been playing with the Buchanan brothers.

Lana reined in her horse at the girl's approach. This was the first human voice she had heard, other than her own, in almost four months. She wasn't certain she was ready yet to return to civilization or what passed for civilization in Ennis, Montana, population eighty-seven. At least eighty-seven had been its population when she had departed for the high country back at the beginning of June.

But ready or not, she had felt the weather start to change four days earlier and knew the short summer season was ending. If she hadn't departed when she did, she might have been trapped by the heavy snows and she wasn't properly equipped for a winter in the mountains.

As she waited for the girl to reach her, Lana wrapped the reins about the pommel of her saddle and pushed back her battered old cowboy hat. Then she stood in the stirrups to stretch her legs and see if she could catch a glimpse of the town. She could make out curls of smoke rising from a number of spots in the distance, but she was still several miles from the edge of the town and the buildings were little more than a blur. Reseating herself, she took a moment to enjoy the simple things of her life: the creaking sound of her saddle, the rustling leaves of the nearby trees, the slow gurgling of the stream, and the smell of the sweat from her horse. Although, as much as she loved her horses, after three hard days in the saddle and four months of bathing in a frigid mountain stream, she was definitely looking forward to a hot bath. Even if the only hot bath to be found in Ennis was at Sally's Brothel and Bathing Emporium.

"Miss Lang, Miss Lang," panted Sarah again as she reached the spot where Lana was waiting on the trail following the east bank of the Madison River. "It is so good to see you."

Lana looked down at the ten year old girl in her much-patched blue dress and tattered red wool sweater, both probably hand-me downs from her older sister Jenny. Then she looked down at her own attire of coarse flaxen pants, a dark gray work shirt, a faded light gray vest, a dark green short coat, and, over it all, a heavy leather duster. At these lower elevations, where the afternoon temperature was still in the low sixties, she was starting to feel a little warm. But looking back to the girl, Lana knew she was going to miss the freedom to dress as she pleased when she reached the town and would have to once again start dressing like a respectable woman.

Lana removed her hat and took a moment to wipe her brow with her kerchief. "It is good to see you, too, Sarah. How was your summer?"

"It was okay," began Sarah. Then her eyes brightened. "When is school starting?"

Lana gave a small smile. She was the closest thing to a teacher this remote community deep in the Beaverhead Mountains of southern Montana had ever had. This had been her fourth summer enjoying the healing solitude of the high country where her only companions were the horses she loved so much. And now she was about to begin her fourth winter in Ennis teaching the local children. It had been during her first winter that she had agreed to take on the teaching assignment in exchange for the use of the room at the back of the school house and a winter's supply of firewood.

Lana felt the first laugh she could remember in a long time bubble to the surface. "Couldn't you wait until I at least reached town before asking?"

Sarah had always been her most enthusiastic pupil and she saw this hadn't changed over the summer.

"I'm sorry, but you promised us Pride and Prejudice when school started and I have been looking forward to it all summer. And it has been even harder waiting the last six weeks since the Jane Austen book arrived with the rest of your order of books on the stage coach from Denver."

"I am glad to hear the books arrived safely. Where are they?" asked Lana. It would be good to have some new books to explore as it seemed like she had almost memorized the three she had taken with her for the summer.

"Mr. Clark is keeping them at his store," answered Sarah.

A small feeling of déjà vu passed through Lana at the mention of Jim Clark's name. She didn't understand it, but for some reason the name Clark struck a strange resonant chord deep in her soul. It must have something to do with the vast yawning chasm of her missing memories. Everything before her arrival in Ennis four years earlier was just a blank. Certain words like 'Clark' seemed to have some association with her former life, but no matter how hard she tried, her memories stubbornly remained inaccessible. Some horrific event, either physical or emotional, must have been involved.

"What day is it?" asked Lana. In the high country, it didn't much matter what day of the week it was, so she didn't bother to keep track.

"Saturday."

Great, thought Lana. I would arrive back on my least favorite day of the week when all of cowboys, ranchers, and farmers will be in town to get liquored up.

"Since you are so anxious, we might as well start school on Monday. Will you help get the word out?"

"Of course," nodded Sarah. Looking past Lana, she continued, "It looks like you made a good haul this year."

Lana turned in her saddle to look back, too. Stretched out on a long tether behind her were her two pack mules and sixteen partially broken wild mustangs. None of the mustangs were quite ready for the saddle yet, but she had at least reached the point where they would accept the bridal and follow docilely along on a lead. That was good enough to get them down here to the town where they would fetch a handsome price from Mark Parker, the local blacksmith and horse dealer.

"Yeah, it has been a good summer. But now I am really looking forward to a nice long hot soak at Miss Sally's. Please say hello from me to your parents and I will see you at church tomorrow."

Sarah grinned, gave a little wave, and raced back over to where the Buchanan brothers, Tim and Jacob, waited a couple hundred feet away under a small group of trees. They were a lot less excited about the whole school thing, which was why Lana wasn't surprised they hadn't come over to greet her.

Turning her attention back toward the town, Lana lightly dug her spurs into Mr. Ed's flanks to get her little train of horses in motion again.

- + - + - + - +

Leading her horses at a steady ground consuming pace, Lana reached the town in another thirty minutes, late in the afternoon. The mostly clear sky she had been traveling under most of the day was now filling with rapidly moving dark clouds. Looking up, she estimated the bad weather would reach the town in a couple of hours, certainly before nightfall. It was still warm enough here that it might just be a miserable cold rain, but she knew the snow would already be falling back up in the high country. Just like every other year, she had managed to time her departure for the last possible moment.

Passing the 'Welcome to Ennis' sign with the population 87 painted over to now read 103, Lana picked up the pace a little. She definitely wanted to take care of the mustangs, get Mr. Ed and the mules boarded at the stables, get a bath and some dinner, and be back at her room behind the school before the weather broke.

As she moved at a steady pace down the main street of the small town, she gave a polite nod to the many residents scurrying about, many of whom also appeared to be trying to complete their business before the rain arrived. Before long she had reached the center of town and its most important asset, Clark's General Store. The store was the lifeline of the community to the rest of civilization. In addition to carrying the standard staples of everyday life, as the territorial post office it was also the local delivery point of the recently established Montgomery Ward Mail Order Service. Staring at the fancy brocaded dress on the dummy in its front window, Lana hoped she would have time amongst her other tasks of the afternoon to stop in for her shipment of books. In some ways she was just as eager as Sarah Gardner to read something new. She had specifically ordered Pride and Prejudice and a few others, but she had also requested that the book dealer in Denver include a few new releases that he thought would suit her tastes based on her other selections. In some ways her annual shipment of books was the closest thing she had to Christmas.

Turning her attention back to the street, she started to angle across to the next left side street, which led to Parker's stables. Trying to get her head into the proper mindset to haggle horse prices with Parker, she was startled to hear a woman's voice shouting her name. Looking across the street at the last building before her turn, Lana saw Sally standing on the second floor balcony above her saloon waving energetically.

Momentarily reining her smallish caravan to a halt in front of the saloon, Lana looked up at the woman. Sally Amundsen was of obvious Scandinavian stock, standing five-nine with long blonde hair. With thick makeup and well rouged lips and cheeks, her age seemed relatively indeterminate. But in one of those weird juxtapositions only possible in small frontier towns, the madam who ran the whorehouse and the school teacher were the best of friends. And it was because of this friendship that Lana knew Sally was the spry old age of twenty-six.

Lana looked up at her old friend standing there in her usual attire of white satin pantaloons and a burgundy bustier, her one concession to the fall weather being a heavy shawl thrown across her bare shoulders. But as she leaned over the railing to look down, the shawl did nothing to hide her famous ample cleavage.

"Hello, Sally, how's business?" called Lana as she looked from Sally's soft creamy skin down to her own hard callused hands with the dirt seemingly permanently engraved under her nails. A nice long soak until her skin was all wrinkled and soft was starting to sound so good.

"Better than ever. A new silver mine has opened ten miles west of here up in Grover's Canyon. That means twenty more men looking for that special attention. And how has your summer been, Lana?"

Lana was about to respond when a couple of the mustangs began to whinny in a tone she recognized to mean they were getting spooked. Quickly turning in her saddle she saw how more and more of the horses were showing the whites of their eyes as they darted from side to side. None of these horses had ever been around any people besides her. While they had been moving they had been okay, but now stopped they might quickly get out of control. Hurriedly, she turned Mr. Ed towards the side street.

"Sally, I have to get these horses down to Parker's before they panic. Can you squeeze me in for a bath in say forty-five minutes? And then perhaps we can have a nice cozy chat."

Sally followed along on the balcony until she was standing at its corner where it overlooked the side street. "Yeah, there are several miners soaking in there at the moment, but a couple of the girls should be free soon or if not, I will find some other polite way to kick them out."

Lana was almost to the end of the block when Sally called out one final time. "Meet me at the bar!"

Lana waved back at her and then turned her attention back to the upcoming haggling session with Parker.

- + - + - + - + - +

Lana stepped onto the wooden sidewalk which ran along the side of Sally's Saloon from the dusty street she knew would soon be a muddy quagmire once the rains began. Her spurs jingled quietly as she swung her Winchester Model 1897 pump-action shotgun up until the barrel rested lightly on her shoulder and her right index finger was visibly resting just outside the trigger guard. This blatant display shouldn't be necessary here on the eve of the twentieth century, but Lana had learned not to take any unnecessary chances walking into a saloon on a Saturday night. Oh, she had never had to discharge the shotgun here in town, but she had had to use it to club more than one drunken cowhand.

As she pulled open the front door of the saloon she felt like she was almost assaulted by the overpowering smell of cheap beer and tobacco in combination with the loud noise of the player piano and the lively crowd. The sun hadn't even set yet and already Sally was doing a booming business.

Four or five of Sally's girls were making the rounds of the tables; a couple of them were delivering drinks, but the others were clearly flirting and looking to drum up some more private business. Sally herself was leaning over the shoulder of old man Higgins, the biggest landowner and current mayor, where he was holding court at a card table in the back corner. Four other men were at the table holding cards, but even from the doorway, Lana could see how all of their attentions were instead concentrated on Sally's bosom.

Sally looked up, caught Lana's eye, and tilted her head towards the bar before turning back to Higgins.

Lana strode over to the bar, stopped in a space between two groups of cowboys, and lowered her shotgun until it dropped lengthwise onto the top of the counter with a satisfying thud; clearly defining that four foot section of the bar to be her own.

Almost instantly Joe, Sally's long-time bartender, seemed to appear almost by magic directly in front of her. "Welcome back, Miss Lang. It is good to see you again. Can I get you anything?"

"Hello, Joe. It is good to be back. I'll have a whiskey and get one for yourself and Sally, too."

Joe, who had to be pushing sixty, gave her a wide smile. "Thank you, Miss Lang."

He pulled out three fresh shot glasses and filled them to the brim. He raised his and said, "To your health, Miss Lang." Then he downed it in one long gulp.

Lana raised her own glass in salute, but only took a small sip. As the alcohol burned its way down her throat she felt a little of the weariness from the past three days on the trail start to work its way out of her body. And after four months of drinking nothing but water and coffee, the whiskey seemed like a special treat. Not that she ever let herself over-imbibe; one was her strictly imposed self limit. Ennis was not a place where she would risk getting drunk and end up letting some cowboy or miner take advantage of her. No, she had no desire to end up like the women who worked for Sally.

Nursing her drink until Sally arrived and they could retreat to the more private baths, Lana turned around and inspected the crowd. Close to thirty men already filled the room. Of course, there were no women present other than Sally's girls. No god-fearing, good Christian woman would be caught dead in this place. Sometimes it surprised her that the other women would allow her to teach their children since she had been in this saloon more than just this once. But since she didn't flaunt it in their faces and had clearly demonstrated her fluency in classical Greek and Latin as well as French, Spanish, Art, History, Math and Science, the other women generally turned a blind eye. They would occasionally ask her if she had studied at one of the great women's colleges back east like Smith, Wellesley, or Bryn Mawr. But all Lana could ever do was shrug, where she had learned the many things she knew was just one more item that fell into the giant void that had displaced her pre-Ennis memories.

Turning her thoughts away from her memory problems, which seemed to be more on her mind today than usual, she forced her attention back to the crowd. Sitting against the side wall was Sarah Gardner's father, David, and her two older brothers. The three of them were sitting at exactly the same table playing cards with the same two other men as the last time she had been in here right before her departure for the high country. Did they ever move? Or had they been playing the same game for four months?

As Lana was musing how things never seemed to change in a one saloon town, Sally joined her.

"Hi, Sally. The place is really hopping early today."

"Yeah, although I think it is largely due to the weather. I would be will to bet a gold eagle that things are going to quiet down earlier than normal today, too. Several of the regulars have already come and gone so they could return to their ranches before the storm hits," began Sally before she paused to pick up the shot glass Lana had slid in front of her. After downing half of the drink in one swallow, she continued. "If you are ready for that bath, Sue Ling and Mary Chao should have the room ready by now. I need a few more minutes with Higgins and then I will be up to join you. I want to expand my operations to include a laundry service, but he seems to have some problem with me spreading beyond the 'sin' trades. I think he is afraid that in five more years I will be running the whole town."

Lana grinned. She had to agree with Higgins on at least this one subject. Sally was a surprisingly good and effective business woman. Four years earlier when she had first arrived in town, Sally and two other girls had been sharing an old cabin on the edge of town. She had steadily expanded until her brothel had moved to the center of town with at least eight girls. Then she had added the bathing portion of her business. Finally, she had bought out James Polk and taken over the saloon. In another five years it certainly seemed possible she could be running the town. And, who knows, thought Lana, the town might be the better for it.

"Well, I am sure you will wear him down." Then making a point of looking down towards Sally's chest, Lana added. "Everyone knows how much he loves 'the girls'."

"These 'girls'?" asked Sally with a big grin as she brought up her hands to clasp her own breasts. Then once she was sure she had the attention of every man within fifteen feet, she gave them a firm squeeze before adjusting the bustier so that the exposed portion of her large breasts bulged even further over the top.

"I think that is enough of a free show for these gents. If they want more, they are going to have to pay for it," said Sally, as she picked up the glass with the remainder of her drink. "I should get back to Higgins. I will see you upstairs in a few minutes."

Lana nodded and then watched Sally walk away with an extravagant roll of her hips. Picking up her drink with one hand, Lana hoisted her shotgun back to her shoulder with the other. Heading to the stairs in the back left corner of the room, she took a less than direct path to give the tables a wide berth. If she got too close, someone would certainly try to grope her and she wasn't in the mood to deal with it today. No, she was still in a good mood from the better than expected offer Parker had made for the mustangs and she was looking forward to a nice relaxing bath. She didn't want to break her tranquil mood by having to put some lonesome cowboy back into his place.

Once she reached the stairs, Lana proceeded up at almost a jog; the long awaited hot bath was almost here. At the top of the stairs, hallways led off to the left and the right. To the right was where Sally and her girls entertained their gentlemen 'friends'. It was the hallway to the left that led to the baths. Without hesitation, Lana took the hall to the left; this wasn't the first time she had used this entrance to reach the baths.

The door at the end of the corridor led into the largest bathing room, the one with the three large porcelain claw foot tubs with custom gold leaf trim that Sally had specially imported all the way from Chicago. If the two of them were going to have a soak and a chat, Lana knew this is the room Sally would have selected.

Lana knocked once at the closed door and couldn't have waited more the five seconds before it was pulled open by the most beautiful young Chinese girl she had ever seen. And young girl certainly described her, Lana decided. She couldn't be more than thirteen, fourteen tops. Before Lana had time to finish her thought, the girl bowed her head and then gestured for Lana to enter.

As she stepped into the room a second girl, who could have been the first's twin, was stepping from the small stairway at the back of the room. Like the first she was wearing a thin, sheer white muslin wrap which in the heat and humidity of the bath was completely transparent. Lana saw the barest hint of developing breasts on these girls and wondered briefly if Sally had them working down the right hallway yet. Certainly a portion of Sally's clientele would prefer the 'little girl' look.

The first girl whispered to the second in Mandarin Chinese, "She is even more beautiful than Miss Sally said." Before turning to Lana and saying in halting English. "Welcome, Mistress. I am Sue and this is Mary. The water is ready. May we help you undress?"

Lana was surprised she understood the girl perfectly when she had been whispering in Chinese. Before that moment she had no idea she knew the language, obviously it was one more mystery from her lost past. She pondered once again what her life had involved before arriving here. How had she come to learn all the languages and other things she knew?

After hearing just this one small sample, she immediately knew that her Chinese was better than the girls' English. Therefore she answered them in that language. "Please, call me Lana. And if you have some free time this winter while I am in town, I would be happy to help you with your English. Perhaps we can work on reading and writing, too."

The two froze and just stared at her. It was obvious from their expression they had never come across a non-Chinese before who was so fluent in their language. Finally, they both tried to start speaking at the same time.

"Yes, Mistress, ah, Lana," began Mary, taking the lead after they stopped giggling over their overlapping words. "We would greatly appreciate your help with our English. Now, may we help you into the bath?"

Lana paused for a moment imagining how it was going to feel stripping before these girls. Previously, it had always been old, matronly Mrs. Gunderson who had filled and refilled the hot water in the tubs. And never once had she offered to help Lana with her clothes. No, on her earlier visits there had been a small folding privacy screen in the corner and Mrs. Gunderson had always contrived to be facing the other way as Lana had discreetly made her way to the murky water. But now Lana noticed the old privacy screen had disappeared and the water in the partially filled tubs was unusually clean and crystal clear.

She had always thought of herself as a shy person, yet suddenly it felt like she had been through all of this before. It was sort of like the way the name 'Clark' tugged at her lost memories. Where had she been through a similar bathing situation before, she wondered? But knowing she must have experienced it before somehow made it easier and she found herself nodding to the patiently waiting Mary even as she turned to lean her shotgun in the corner and set her drink on a small table.

Before she had even turned back from the corner, she felt feather-light fingers start to gently pull her duster from her shoulders. As the weight came off, she realized how much it and the rest of her clothes stank of horses and the trail. God, she hoped Sally had some cleaner clothes she could borrow until she got back to her room at the school house, as she couldn't imagine putting these things back on after spending time in the bath. Although she allowed herself a moment to fantasize about letting Sally 'tart' her up like one of her girls, Lana knew she would never let herself do it for real. No, if Sally couldn't scrounge her up a respectable dress, she would just put her own clothes back on.

While she had let her mind drift to thoughts of bustiers and pantaloons, Mary had proceeded to remove her short coat and vest. By the time Lana again focused on her surroundings she found herself sitting on a chair while Mary worked on removing her well-worn boots.

Once the boots were removed, it was but the work of a few moments to discard the remainder of her clothes and then step quickly into the waiting bath. The porcelain tub did a good job of retaining the heat of the water and Lana could feel her body beginning to relax as she sank into the water which reached halfway between her navel and her breasts. Almost instantly Mary was scrubbing her back with a large sponge and Sue had reappeared on the stairs from the boiler room below with another bucket of steaming hot water.

Setting the bucket beside the tub, Sue asked, "May I wash your hair?"

Lana nodded and leaned forward until her long black hair obscured her face. It was always a special treat to have someone else do her hair.

"How long have you girls been working for Sally?" asked Lana.

"Only about two weeks," began Sue as she worked shampoo into Lana's hair. "We and our families were traveling up to Canada on our way to the Klondike. Our fathers intended to set up a laundry business there to cash-in on all of the arriving miners in the same way their grandfathers had cashed in during the California Gold Rush fifty years ago. During a stopover in Three Falls, they ran into Miss Sally and she convinced them there was a good opportunity here without needing to travel another two thousand miles. Our fathers were set on going to Alaska, but Miss Sally can be very persuasive, so we ended up here instead. When the laundry is up and running, Mary and I will probably work there instead of here in the baths, but I think I will miss this job."

As she finished speaking, she picked up the bucket and dumped most of its contents over Lana's head to rinse out the shampoo. Then she retreated down the stairs to fetch another bucket of hot water.

Lana pulled one of her hands free from where Mary was working on the dirt under her fingernails with a brush. Then just as she was using it to push her wet hair away from her eyes, the door to outside hallway opened and Sally stepped into the room.

Lana glanced over and then settled back a little deeper into the tub. "Sally, these girls are a real find. Mary was just telling me about their families' involvement with your proposed laundry business. She said she and Sue expect to work there once it is in operation. However, I think you need to work out a deal where they can continue to work here, at least for a few of your 'special' friends like . . . well . . . like me."

As soon as she had entered the room, Sally had dropped into one of the chairs and started removing her shoes. By the time they were off, Sue had returned with another bucket of water. She quickly set it by the adjacent tub and moved to help Sally out of her bustier.

"Lana, you seemed to have learned a lot from these girls in a few minutes. How did you do it? Every time I need to get more than the simplest idea across, it always seems to devolve into a game of pantomime."

Lana couldn't help but glance over at Sally as the bustier came off. She had seen the woman naked before, but she was still amazed at the size of her breasts and how little they sagged. But then surprisingly, for a woman of her age and in her occupation, Sally had somehow avoided the normal pratfall of children, which certainly had to be a major contributor to her still impressive physique.

Trying not to stare too long, Lana responded. "Remember how I am good at languages like Greek and Latin?"

Sally nodded, as she worked on the draw-string of her pantaloons.

"Well, when I entered the room, Sue and Mary were chatting in Chinese and I discovered I could understand them. More than just understand, because as soon as I heard it, I simply knew I could speak it and even read and write it."

"You can speak Chinese and never realized it?" Asked Sally, as she eased herself into the adjoining tub.

Lana shrugged and noticed the pleasantly erotic feeling as her nipples briefly broke clear of the shimmering water. "It was certainly startling to me. And it makes me wonder what other languages and things I might know but which I just haven't been in a situation to trigger yet. It also, once more, raises the big question of where I learned all of these languages before I lost my memory. And exactly what I was doing before I showed up here?"

Sally let out a long slow sigh as Sue started shampooing her hair. "Yeah, Lana, your past is certainly the biggest enigma I have ever run across."

Mary interrupted quietly by leaning close to Lana's ear and suggested in a whisper, "Swing your feet up over the edge and I will work on your toes next."

Lana did as the girl requested and then tried to imagine old Mrs. Gunderson giving her a pedicure. A slight surge of revulsion passed through her at thought of her old, stubby fingers trying to caress her feet the way Mary was currently doing.

"Sally, could you spare these girls for a few hours during the day? They are not much older than some of my other students and I would like them to join my class so I can help them with the reading, writing, and arithmeticcing of the English language."

Sally looked over at her. "Have you developed a soft spot for these girls already? I have known for a long time that you are a pretty soft 'touch', but this time I think you have set a new record."

"I guess you can call it being a soft 'touch', if you want. But I see it as just doing my part to improve the lot of the citizens of Ennis. And since Mary and Sue live here now, they fall into the same category of people I would like to help in gratitude for everything the town has done for me down through the years."

"Well," drawled Sally as Sue briefly left her side to retreat down the stairs to fetch another bucket of hot water. "Since you put it that way, how can I refuse? I can probably spare them for a few hours in the morning."

Lana grinned. "Good, let me tell Mary."

As Lana was explaining in Chinese, someone began rapping on the door through which Lana and Sally had entered the room. Mary quickly broke off their conversation with a polite nod and then scurried over to the door to see who was there.

Not knowing who was at the door and suddenly feeling very exposed, Lana turned and lean over the side of her tub in the direction of Sally's tub. Reaching down to where a towel was resting on the floor, she quickly stretched it across the top of her tub until her body was hidden from casual notice from her neck almost to her knees.

Then Lana watched as Mary opened the door no more than three inches to find out who was disturbing their session. Mary stood there listening to the person on the other side for ten or fifteen seconds. At first she had a very shocked expression. But then after her eyes flicked towards Lana for a moment, her face suddenly broke into a grin and she started addressing whoever was on the other side in rapid Chinese. She was speaking just softly enough that Lana could only make out that she was speaking in Chinese, but not the specific words. And she couldn't even make out that much of what the person on the other side of the door might be saying.

At first Lana had felt a slight twinge of fear that was exacerbated by being naked and feeling helpless. Her eyes had already glanced to where her shotgun stood in the corner when Mary suddenly started to grin and talk animatedly. Lana could just start to feel some of the tension draining from her body when Mary swung the door wide and gestured for the person in the hall to enter.

Lana quickly looked the stranger over. This person, who Lana couldn't ever remember seeing before yet somehow seemed achingly familiar, was a very attractive woman with short, wild blonde hair. She was wearing a relatively nondescript green dress, nothing flashy but also not worn and repaired like the dresses of so many of the town's women. At first glance Lana thought of her as a woman, but with a second closer look, she decided that wasn't quite right. Oh something about her eyes made her seem older, but otherwise she could easily pass for a girl of sixteen.

For a moment Lana thought the stranger must be another of Sally's girls, as what other woman would be in this establishment? But she certainly wasn't dressed like the typical whore or wearing the overdone makeup. And as she strode across the room directly towards Lana's tub, the biggest smile Lana could ever remember seeing broke out across the girl's face. When she stopped right next to Lana's tub, she abruptly stuck out her hand in greeting.

"Hello, Lana. I have been waiting a very, very long time to see you. Do you remember me? My name is Chloe Sullivan."

Just like the name Clark, the name Chloe seemed hauntingly familiar. Lana stared into the other girl's green eyes for almost a minute hoping some lost memory would return, but nothing came. Finally, she shook her head.

"I'm sorry; everything before I arrived here four years ago is a blank. Do you know me? Do you know what happened to me? Why I am here? I have all of these unusual skills and knowledge and I don't understand where they came from."

As Lana wound down, she watched a frown pass across Chloe's face. That didn't seem like a good sign, she thought to herself.

Chloe let out a slow sigh. "I was hoping after all of this time your memories would have started to return to you."

"You do know what happened to me," stated Lana, feeling both excitement and more than a little fear. "Perhaps if you explain, it will help me to remember."

Chloe nodded. "Okay, perhaps it is time. But it is sort of complicated." She paused for a moment and then inclined her head towards the unused third tub. "Do you mind if I join you?"

Lana glanced over at Sally who gave a brief nod; she was obviously almost as curious about Lana's past as Lana herself was.

"Of course, please do join us," said Lana before turning to Mary and continuing in Chinese. "Mary, would you go help Sue with some more hot water for the third tub?"

Mary nodded and turned towards the stairs. Before she had moved three steps, Chloe interrupted her.

"Mary, while you are down there would you please look in the lowest right hand cupboard? You will find a special box of bathing salts there. I would appreciate it if you could bring it back up with you." When Chloe realized the girl hadn't been able to follow all of her words in English, Chloe quickly repeated them in perfect Chinese.

Lana wasn't sure which intrigued her most, that Chloe also spoke Chinese or that she knew the location of a box of bathing salts downstairs. She decided to pursue the former first. Although to test Chloe a little, Lana addressed her in Greek rather than Chinese.

"Chloe, how is it we both know so many languages? And do you know how many I can speak? I mean, I didn't even realize I knew Chinese until ten minutes ago."

When Chloe responded, it was in still another language Lana didn't know she knew. She didn't have any easy cultural references like the Chinese with Mary and Sue, so she didn't even know its name. But somewhere down in her gut, she simply knew this language was very, very old; so old it would have been long forgotten when the pyramids were new.

"Oh, the number is the easy part, one hundred seventy six. The 'how' is more difficult; I am not sure it is the best place to start our conversation."

Lana's mind boggled. How could one person possibly know one hundred seventy six languages? Were there even one hundred seventy six in the whole world?

"That number is almost impossible to believe. But if you don't think that is the best place to start, start where you would like. I will admit I am more interested in why I can't remember anything before arriving here than I am about the whole language thing."

Chloe nodded. But before she could respond, Sue returned with the first of several buckets of hot water. As Chloe began to disrobe, Sally rejoined the conversation.

"Chloe," began Sally, dragging the conversation back to English. "How do you where things are located downstairs? I am certain you have never been in my establishment before."

Lana watched as Chloe paused in undoing the small buttons down the front of her white petticoat to look at Sally for a moment. "Sally, I'm afraid it is difficult to explain in terms you will understand. For now, let's just say I am very good at magic."

Magic? Wondered Lana. Did she really just say magic? But magic is not real, everyone knows that. Oh, she remembered when the cardsharp passed through town two winters ago and the amazing things he could do with a deck of cards. But it had been just 'sleight of hand'. However looking at Chloe, Lana simply knew she was not referring to anything like that.

"What do you mean?" asked Lana as her questions about her past were momentarily forgotten.

Chloe had just finished the last button and shrugged her shoulders so that her final garment slid off and fell to the floor in a pile around her ankles. As she stepped clear, she tilted her head to one side and looked at Lana.

"I guess this is as good of place as any to start. This place," Chloe swept her arms around to encompass the room with a motion with caused her breasts to sway in a most intoxicating way. "Is very special. While we are here the two of us have very wonderful powers. The problem is that you simply don't remember them just like you don't remember all of your language gifts. Maybe if you regain your magic, it will help you on your path to regain your memories."

Chloe paused and cast her eye around the room. Just then Mary was returning up the stairs carrying a heavy pail of hot water. As she walked over to add her bucket to the water already in the third tub, Chloe with a gesture motioned her to halt.

"Here, I can at least start by helping with the hot water, so Mary and Sue can focus on more fun, I mean important, things like scrubbing our backs or giving massages."

Chloe nonchalantly waved a hand towards the third bathtub and as Lana watched, the water level quickly rose until it was near the brim and small tendrils of steam began to rise from the surface. Chloe gracefully stepped over the side and lowered herself until she was completely submerged. After about fifteen seconds she raised her head above the surface and swept her wet hair back from her face with her fingers. "Ah, it feels like it has been days and days since I have had time to soak and relax."

Lana stared at her but didn't see any of the erotic beauty on display. No, all she saw was the image in her head of the tub filling with water all by itself. And all she could suddenly hear was Chloe's comment that 'they could both do magic here'.

"How did you do that?" asked Lana. "And you say I can do it, too?"

Chloe raised one finger to tell Lana to wait and then she once more sunk completely below the surface of the water. This time Lana had to wait at least thirty seconds before she once more broke the surface. And the whole time the thought 'I can do magic?' looped around and around in her head.

Once Chloe had again swept the hair clear of her face she looked over at Lana and grinned. "Sure. All you have to do is think really hard about what you want to happen. Maybe at first it will help if you close your eyes. Go ahead give it a try. Start with something simple like turning the water in your tub a different color. Say, hmm, how about a very metallic gold color like you were in a tub filled with a million dollars worth of melted down gold."

Lana couldn't imagine it would work or be as simple as just thinking about it, but she closed her eyes and tried to picture the tub filled with liquid gold. For a moment she had this sudden mental image of woman's naked body covered in gold and stretched out on a bed. Along with the picture of the woman had come a word, Goldfinger. Lana had no idea where that word had come from since it didn't seem to mean anything and if it was in reference to the image of the woman, then why not Goldbody instead of Goldfinger?

Were the image and the word some part of the memories she had lost? She tried for almost a minute to see if any other images, memories, or whatever would come to her, but nothing did. Finally, she went back to focusing on making the color of the bath water change.

After another thirty seconds she decided either it had worked or it hadn't. Opening her eyes, she was completely shocked to find the tub was actually filled with gold. Quickly she pushed aside the towel that had been hiding her nakedness and then watched the gold oozed around with a consistency more like really thick paint than water. In utter fascination she rose to her feet and felt the thick liquid sluggishly flowing down her body. Looking down, she almost didn't recognize her body under the nearly inch thick coat of gold.

"I really did this?" asked Lana looking over at Chloe.

Lana saw Chloe's eyes had been running up and down her body and watched Chloe give a guilty start as she realized Lana had seen her.

"Ah, what was your question? Oh, right. Yeah, you really did it."

What she had been able to accomplish with this 'magic' or whatever was so unexpected and startling, for the moment it didn't really sink in. No, all that really registered was the hungry look on Chloe's face as she stared at Lana's body clad only in the gold liquid. Lana looked back down at her body and watched the gold ever so slowly flow back down into the tub. The feeling, she suddenly decided, was less like paint and more like thick maple syrup. And as soon as that thought crossed her mind, she wondered if it would also taste like maple syrup. She thought about it for a moment. Then she reached down plunging her finger into the golden substance just above her navel. Slowly she ran her finger upwards until it crossed her sternum and then continued traveling up between her breasts. Once she had a large globe on the tip of her finger, she raised it near her mouth and extended her tongue to have the smallest of tastes.

Even as the maple taste registered, she heard a small sharp gasp from Chloe. Innocently mistaking the sound of lust for a noise of concern, Lana said, "It is just maple syrup, not real gold." Then she slid the finger into her mouth and hollowed her cheeks as she sucked the finger clean.

Lana continued to watch as Chloe's hands, which had been resting on the upper rim of the tub, abruptly disappeared below the waterline. For a moment Chloe's eyes seemed to start glazing over, but then with a small shake of her head as though she had just forced herself to make a difficult decision, her hands once more appeared on the tub's rim.

Lana had been watching Chloe smile for a few seconds when she realized she hadn't heard anything from Sally in a while. And Sally should have made some comment by now about Lana's golden transformation. Lana had known Sally for a long time and while she might have been struck mute momentarily by the shock of what she had just experienced, it wouldn't keep Sally quiet for long.

Looking back over her shoulder, Lana had imagined many things, but what she saw was not one of them. Sally was frozen in place with a look of shock on her face and her hands raised half way to her mouth. And not only was she frozen, but even the water dripping from her arms was hanging stationary in mid-air.

As she swept her eyes back towards Chloe to find out what was going on with Sally, her eyes saw Sue and Mary also frozen in place. Once she finally got her attention focused back on Chloe, Lana asked. "What is going on with Sally and the girls?"

She watched as Chloe's eyes briefly flicked away from staring at her and looked at the other women before returned to her.

"Ahh," began Chloe before she paused briefly to lick her lips. "I felt it was best we discuss things in private for now." As she once more paused, Lana watched Chloe's eyes traverse over to Sally again. "They are merely frozen in time and when we are ready, I will restart things for them."

Lana felt a small shiver run through her body. Although she wasn't certain if it was due to the sudden understanding that the 'magic' went way beyond simple tricks with water or if it was the realization she was standing there naked and steadily more exposed as the gold drained back into the tub.

Suspecting the latter as much as the former; Lana sank back into the tub of gold before addressing Chloe. "What is so special about this room that all of this 'magic' is possible?"

There was a real look of regret on Chloe's face that the show was over for the moment as she responded. "This room? What are you talking about?"

"You said in this place we could do magic."

Chloe shook her head. "I didn't mean this room. I meant this whole place. . . ah, this whole world for lack of a better term."

"What do you mean this whole world?" Asked Lana. "You said that as those there are others."

"It is somewhat related to your lost memories and I guess it is time to start explaining," began Chloe before she paused to raise her hands from edge of her tub. Immediately, a bottle of champagne appeared in her right hand and two glasses in her left. "Would you like some champagne while we talk?"

Lana knew what champagne was, but had never had any during her four year sojourn in Montana. And when she tried to imagine its taste, nothing came to mind. Had she ever had it in her mysterious former life? If so, nothing was coming back to her. However it might be interesting to try. Hopefully, she wouldn't have a bad reaction from mixing it was the half of glass of whiskey she had already consumed.

"Thanks, Chloe. A glass might be nice."

Their tubs were about five feet apart; too far to reach without someone moving. Chloe rose to her feet from the clear water without bobbling either the bottle or the glasses. Quickly, she moved over beside Lana's tub where only Lana's head, upper shoulders, and arms were visible above the glistening gold surface. Chloe poured Lana a glass and handed it to her. Chloe looked back down at the shimmering surface and once more licked her lips. "Lana that gold looks very inviting and the tub looks big enough for two. Could I join you while we talk?"

Lana was startled by this unexpected request. She almost retorted that Chloe could just as easily fill the other tub with gold, but a look at the expression on the other girl's face made her hold her tongue. There was something in Chloe's eyes beside the lust she had seen earlier. Oh, the lust was most definitely still there, but so was something else. This something else said that Chloe might need the morale support of having her close before this explanation was finished.

To make some space at the other end of the tub, Lana pulled her knees towards her until they broke the surface. "Sure you can join me if you like."

Chloe smiled her thanks before slowly stepping into the tub without raising more than the smallest ripple. Once she was seated, she poured herself a glass and then set the bottle on the floor next to the tub.

Turning to Lana, Chloe raised her glass. "To best friends."

Lana raised her glass and clicked it against Chloe's before taking a small sip. Hmm, the bubbles fizzing in her mouth were different from anything else she could ever remember drinking. As far as the taste itself, it was vaguely reminiscent of the wine she had shared several times before with Sally, yet it was also distinctly different, too.

Lowering her glass, Lana asked, "Best friends? As in you and me?"

Chloe took a sip from her own glass before responding. "Yeah, we were."

When Chloe hesitated, Lana said quietly, "It's okay, just tell me what happened. I think I am strong enough to handle it."

Chloe looked her in the eye for a moment and then nodded. "Okay, there does seem to be something different, stronger about you now then four years ago. I hope you can handle it."

"The hard part is figuring out how to start this without it seeming crazy to you," began Chloe after she had paused for another small sip of her champagne. "In the 'other' world, the 'real' world, we live about one hundred years in the future. In that world we go to high school together and have know each other for three years. Anyway, there was this accident; your boyfriend and another . . . ah . . . friend were very seriously hurt."

Lana tried to understand what Chloe was saying. How could there be another world? Everything here seemed so real. If this was real, could it be the same world just a different time? Lana intended to ask Chloe that question, but when she opened her mouth a different question popped out. "Is it Clark?"

Chloe looked at Lana and Lana could read the confusion in her face. "Clark?" Chloe repeated.

"Is my boyfriend's name Clark? Since I have been here, every time I hear that name it seems to ring a bell."

Chloe shook here head. "No, Clark is not your boyfriend." Chloe saw the look of disappointment in Lana's eyes. "Oh, there is definitely a Clark. He is a good friend of ours and is part of the rescue mission we are on, so I am sure that is why his name is familiar."

"Then what is my boyfriend's name? Why is Clark's name the only one which triggers a response with me?"

"Have you run into anyone in the last four years named Chloe before I walked through the door?"

Lana shook her head.

"Well, your boyfriend's name probably hasn't come up either since you have been here. So there's no reason for it to have been triggered from your memory."

Lana looked at Chloe and then lifted an inquisitive eyebrow as she tilted her head to once side.

"Okay," began Chloe now breaking out into a small grin. "It's Lex. Lex Luthor."

Lana felt a shiver run through her body at the mention of the name Lex. She knew that name! For an instant it seemed like she could even visualize a face to go along with the name. But when she tried to focus on it, the image remained elusively beyond her grasp.

It was another useful tidbit and perhaps with a few more her memories would start to return. Slowly she leaned back from her upright position as she continued to roll the name around in her head. Lex. Lex. Lex.

Her back had just reached the wall of the tub when she realized the name had triggered more than just a response in her head. Looking down, she saw that by reclining at this angle her breasts were now just below the golden surface. And two small peaks existed in the otherwise smooth surface where her suddenly hard nipples tried to push through the pudding-like texture of the thick golden liquid.

At first Lana felt embarrassed at her body's obvious response to the mere mention of the name Lex, particularly with Chloe's face barely three feet away. However when she looked at Chloe's face, she knew Chloe had noticed, but didn't seem shocked. Not only didn't she look shocked, no, she gave the impression of someone who had seen similar things many times before.

Lana raised her glass for a small sip as she worked to get her thoughts away from the word Lex and back onto the other things Chloe had said.

"Ah, Chloe, what do you mean by rescue mission? Are we part of the military or some other governmental agency?"

Chloe shook her head. "No. Nothing like that, but here is where the story starts to get a little weird."

"Should I be getting a little nervous when people who can make champagne bottles appear out of thin air starts talking about things getting weird? And why is the word 'wall' suddenly associated with the word 'weird' in my mind?" asked Lana. She was mostly kidding about feeling a little nervous about what Chloe was about to tell her. Mostly kidding.

Chloe grinned. "Talking about things IS starting to bring back a few of your memories. Back home I have this wall where I collect articles about all of the weird things that happen in Smallville – that's the town where we live."

Smallville. Suddenly it was as if some word association game was being played inside her head. "And The Talon?" she asked.

"The name of the small coffee shop you and Lex own back home."

"He is only my boyfriend, yet we own a business together?"

"Actually, the business came first, your relationship developed much more recently."

Other strange connections started to form in Lana's head. Egyptian Motifs. Roman feasts. Tornados. Mighty warships.

But none of fragments floating around in her head seemed to be inclined to mesh together like a completed jigsaw puzzle. So after a handful of seconds of staring at Chloe's face without really seeing her, Lana tried to pull them off of blind tangents they had been pursuing and on to the real reason Chloe had shown up today.

So, Chloe, what is the 'weird' thing you had to explain about this rescue mission?"

"As I said, we are not working for the government or anybody like that. We are just working for ourselves. However a small group of us – you, me, Clark, and Lex – managed to get control of a time machine. We had some hints a cure for what is attacking Lex might be found back in time. You, Clark, me, and one other used the machine to go back in time.

Lana rolled the concept of time travel around inside her head. More short glimpses of her former life flashed briefly into existence and then were gone. "Is that how I ended up here in Montana? Is what we are looking for here?"

"No, we went to Germany at a point in time about forty years in the future from here and about sixty years in the past from our own time. How you ended up here in Montana. . . well that is something else entirely."

"So what happened in Germany? Did we find what we were looking for? And how did I end up here?"

Chloe paused to reach over the side of the tub to retrieve the champagne bottle and refill their glasses before she spoke. "No, we haven't found what we came to find, at least not yet, but there is still time. As to how you ended up here – you and I got separated from Clark and the others. I guess you could say we got kidnapped by the 'Bad Guys'. We were, actually still are, in a very bad, life-threatening situation. I have a gift that works in the real world. It does not make me nearly omnipotent like we are here, but my gift is still pretty scary."

Chloe closed her eyes for a moment and took a couple of deep breaths. When she opened them, Lana saw they were now bright and shiny like Chloe was almost fighting back tears.

"With some people, I can, just by touching them, reach into their minds and really fuck with their heads. I can make them see, hear, simply experience anything I want. And over the years I have learned how to use people's biggest fears or desires to bend them to my will. I did this to several of our captors to force them to help us escape. Witnessing it pushed you over the edge mentally. To protect yourself and to cope with the shock, you mentally retreated to somewhere you felt safe. Although why you felt the best place to go was late 1890s Montana is beyond me. To the best of my knowledge you have never been to Montana in your life. And certainly not back here."

"I don't understand," began Lana and now the nervousness she had been vaguely experiencing earlier was starting to come back big time. "How could simply watching you do that push me over the edge?"

Chloe sighed, reached up and slowly ran her fingers through her short blonde hair. "Things are way more complicated between us then I have been able to explain so far. I am not sure I can even truly explain it until your memory returns. Let's just say there was an accident some time ago involving us and it left our minds sort of linked together. Now we sometimes experience each other's thoughts. Unfortunately, when I was working on our captors' minds was one of them and you experienced some very, very dark and scary things."

Lana knew she should be paying attention to what Chloe was saying, but her attention had become focused on Chloe's hair. The hand she had run through it was the one which had disappeared below the golden surface shortly after she had entered the shared bath. Now her hair was matted with the thick viscous fluid and a large glob was about to ooze down onto her forehead. Abruptly, Lana couldn't help but giggle at Chloe's appearance.

Chloe looked at Lana and obviously didn't understand what Lana suddenly found so humorous when they were in the middle of an important, serious discussion. She tilted her head slightly to one side, which only seemed to accelerate the movement of the liquid in her hair, and asked, "What?"

Lana's giggles turned into a full-blown laugh. Oh, Chloe's appearance wasn't that hysterical, it was more a reaction to the whole situation. For the last four years her life had been simple and everything had been within her control. Now, in a bare few minutes everything she thought she knew had been turned on its ear. Was that what Chloe had been driving at? Had she retreated here because her real life had gotten out of her control?

After a few seconds Lana had her laughter enough under control to respond. "Sorry. Your hair is full of this golden stuff and it just. . ." and Lana's words trailed off into another burst of giggles.

Chloe instinctively reached up to feel her hair and only managed to add another handful of the stuff. This time she couldn't help but realize what she had done as some of it started to run down the bridge of her nose. When she went to stop it with her fingers, she only managed to smear it around even further, which set Lana to laughing harder.

Lana watched a look of consternation cross Chloe's face, but saw a certain twinkle in her eye as the champagne glass in her one clean, dry hand abruptly vanished. Chloe made as though she was reaching towards her face to wipe it when the hand dipped into the liquid and joined the other in pushing a big wave towards Lana. Before she could react, the wave crested over her upraised knees and hit her full in the face.

Lana dropped her champagne glass over the side of the tub and used both of her clean hands to wipe at her eyes. Just as she opened her eyes, a second wave caught her in the face. This time her mouth had been open and she was almost overwhelmed by concentrated maple syrup taste.

By the time she got her eyes clear the second time, Chloe was laughing almost as hard as she herself had been earlier.

"Two can play this game, you know," said Lana. Then with a moment of concentration she made a five gallon bucket's worth of the golden liquid appear about two feet above Chloe's head. In a fraction of a second, Chloe completely disappeared under a giant mound of the slowly moving fluid.

Quickly, the room was reverberating with their laughs and giggles as waves of the substance went splashing everywhere while the tub was magically replenished from the ether.

In five minutes, everything within fifteen feet looked like it had been dipped in wet gold. And the girls themselves were so thickly coated it was impossible to tell who was who until Lana finally spoke.

"God, I haven't had this much fun in the whole four years I have been here."

Chloe nodded from where her head lay mere inches from Lana's. When their little game finally wore down, they were both stretched out on their sides in the tub facing each other. Under other circumstances their position would have left their naked bodies touching along almost their entire length, but the thick fluid acted as an unseen barrier to keep things on a more sisterly level.

Chloe reached over and gently wiped at the liquid covering Lana's face until enough of it was removed to she could read her expression. "It has been a long time since I had this much fun, too. I'm afraid the last couple of times we were together things were a little tense between us. It is nice to just kick back and have a little fun."

Lana returned the favor of wiping most of the golden liquid from Chloe's face. With a more serious tone she responded, "If, ah, when I return to the 'real' world, what happens to my memories of this place? I mean it has been four years."

Chloe sensed the conversation had turned back to more important things and leaned her head back against the side of the tub. "Oh, based on my personal experience I would say you will remember all of this."

"You've been through something like this yourself?"

"Yeah. Our brains are wired a little differently than everyone else. We can retreat to places like this and years can pass for us while only hours pass in the 'real' world."

"Doesn't that leave you, us, sort of disconnected from our friends? I mean, after four years here, I am sure I have changed, maybe only in subtle ways, but still even without my memories I know I am a different person."

Lana could see a wistful expression cross Chloe's eyes and face as she tried to figure out how best to respond.

"Yeah," began Chloe. "I think 'disconnected' is a good word for it. There have been times when some friend sees me two days in a row and doesn't understand why my reaction at seeing them the second time can be so extreme. I mean from my perspective it may have been years and I have missed them so much I let my excitement at finally seeing them get away from me. Other times it is the exact opposite; the other person is happy to see me and can't comprehend that for me it has been years and during that time my interests have moved on to other things. It can make it very difficult to maintain normal relationships with people or see things with the same perspective as everyone else."

Lana nodded, but she wasn't sure she really understood the implications yet, although it would probably be a lot easier if she could remember her past. At the moment, her memories of all the time she had spent here in complete solitude were so clear; it was hard to feel excitement for any boyfriend let alone one she could hardly remember.

Chloe reached over and tilted Lana's head back until her eyes were once more fixed on her own. "So, Lana, are you ready to return to the real world? I think that will help restore your memories."

Lana's eyes widened in shock at this abrupt suggestion. These mountains and her horses had been her whole life for the last four years and on the whole, she realized, she had been happy. Now, someone, who she didn't really remember as more than a name that sent a tingle down her back, shows up and tells her the last four years were barely more than a dream and it was time for her to wake up. God, why did things have to be so difficult?

"Lana, are you okay?"

Lana shook her head. "This is such a shock. I don't know if I am ready to face what you call the 'real' world." With a desperately pleading tone in her voice, she added, "Does it have to be now?"

Chloe got a far away look in her eyes. After a couple of seconds, her eyes refocused on Lana and there was something in them that the old Lana would have recognized. Unfortunately, the new Lana didn't have her memories of the earlier Chloe or her alter-ego Laura and didn't understand how close to the edge Laura, who had been masquerading as Chloe to keep things simple for Lana, was getting in her battle with her own personal demons. "No, it doesn't have to be right now, but it should happen soon, say within the next six months. After that, I am afraid it will get more difficult for you to break free from your existence here. Plus I think I am going to need your help back in the 'real' world."

Lana felt a wave of relief pass through her that she wouldn't have to do it right this minute. But then the slightest hint of panic set in as the full implication of what Chloe said sank in. Was there a time limit before she would be struck here permanently?

"Thanks for giving me some time Chloe, I think I need it."

Laura nodded, but again she had a far away look in her eyes as though most of her attention was focused elsewhere. "Lana, I am afraid things are going on back in the 'real' world, which need my immediate attention. I will try to stop back when I can so we can continue to work on your memories."

For a moment Laura's full attention was back on Lana. "This has been the most fun and pleasant time I have had in a very long time. Please come back to me soon." Laura managed to keep her tone light, but if Lana had been looking closely she would have seen how much effort it was suddenly costing her. For while Lana had retreated to this place of safety to avoid what Laura had needed to do to try and save them; Laura herself was slowly losing her fight against the additive power of controlling others' minds.

Lana had barely started to nod her head and was about to state her agreement that it had been the most fun she had had in a long time too when abruptly Laura leaned forward, gave her a small kiss on the cheek, and was gone. And with her went the golden liquid filling the tub. And suddenly Sally was in the middle of saying something to her and it was apparent she had no recollection of the other girl's visit.

It quickly started to feel to Lana as though the conversation with Chloe was the dream and this the reality. Trying to convince herself she wasn't losing her mind, Lana's eyes darted around the room for any evidence Chloe's visit had been real. And that was when she saw the champagne bottle standing on the floor on the opposite side of the tub from Sally. Leaning over the side, she also discovered her discarded champagne flute lying on its side next to the bottle. Lana reached down and grabbed the flute. As she raised it, she concentrated and then abruptly, no, miraculously the glass was suddenly filled with pale champagne and streams of tiny bubbles rising to its surface.

Chloe's visit hadn't been a dream.

Part 2

Clark slowly eased his powerful grip on Var-El's hand until finally they broke contact. Clark took half a step back until he was once more standing amongst his friends. While Gretchen took the lead to introduce herself and the others, Clark continued to stare at this stranger, who, based on the similarity in the basic design of their ships, had to be from the same place he was.

Var in turn was also continuing to stare at Clark. He had been momentarily surprised by the strength of the kid's grip. Then he remembered the tribunal's enhanced men; they too were incredibly strong. But a quick glance with his x-ray vision had asserted the kid was not wearing one of the braids, although surprisingly the two men with him were. It had been his understanding that only a limited number of the braids existed and he thought he knew all of the humans possessing them.

However the gift of superhuman strength the braids bestowed on the person carrying them didn't interest Var much. He had had some dealings with those men recently and it had quickly become obvious that the abilities he had developed since arriving here were at least several orders of magnitude greater than what these enhanced men had. And that was just comparing simple physical strength and ignoring all of the other abilities he had discovered over the past two years. Abilities these enhanced men had nothing to match. Not that Var had let on the true extent of his abilities to any of these humans since his nearly disastrous arrival. No, it hadn't taken him long to realize these 'Nazis' were not the people he wanted to make 'First Contact' with, in regards to resettling the Kryptonian populace on Earth. However from a quick survey of the available technology the planet had to offer, they were the ones most able to supply the materials he would need to fix his ship.

And the repair of his ship had been his main concern. Finally, after nearly two human years of hard work, it was almost fully functional. Well, at least as good as it was going to be, working with the primitive resources available here. Some of the ship brain's higher functions could not be restored without a return to Krypton, but at least a return to Krypton should be doable with some jury-rigged manual controls.

However, now, when he was finally ready to do a serious test of the ship, there was the sudden enigma of the young man standing in front of him. If his strength wasn't from the braids, then what was its source? Var wasn't aware of any other techniques for enhancing the strength of these earth men, but if there was one way like the braids, there might be more. Or there was the other possibility: the boy was also from Krypton. At least a simple test for that was possible and it didn't even require revealing any of his own carefully guarded secrets.

"Are you also from Krypton?" asked Var in fluid Kryptonese. Well, after not speaking the language to anyone except the ship's brain for two years, it felt a little less fluid than it should.

Var knew he shouldn't have been surprised at the blank stare Clark and the others returned, but he couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. It had been a very long time since he had spoken to anyone from home.

Still, there was something about this 'Clark' that was jangling something in the back of his mind and he couldn't force himself to just throw these intruders out of his makeshift lab. Maybe it was as simple as the poor fit of the uniforms on these three men. If there was one thing he had learned about the Nazis, it was their fanatical sense of order. He hadn't yet met an officer who didn't wear custom tailored uniforms.

So perhaps this group wasn't just intruding in his lab, but perhaps they were intruders into the overall base as well. Var hadn't spared time to learn English, but he had recognized a few of the words the others had shared. And from what earth news he had followed, as part of his self-imposed task of evaluating the Earth's potential to shelter some or all of the Kryptonian people when their own planet became uninhabitable, Var had a sudden hunch that these men were from America.

Therefore, getting no response to his Kryptonian overture, Var tried again by asking, "Amerikanisch?"

Clark quickly nodded, as he had heard this term often enough over the past few days at the Olympic Village to understand it without waiting for someone to translate.

"Gut, kommen Sie mit mir, bitte," said Var-El and then, just to be sure, he motioned for them to follow before turning and heading back towards the ramp leading into the large alien ship.

Clark, Whitney, Indy, and Gretchen shared a look that said, 'what do we do now?" The last five minutes had changed everything. They thought they were here in Peenemunde looking for clues to the whereabouts of Lana and Marion, but now they were suddenly confronted by a giant alien spaceship, a ship that shouldn't be there and whose mere presence might sway the whole outcome of the Second World War.

After a few seconds, Clark spoke up quietly. "I have to follow him. The rest of you can wait here if you want, but I must do this."

Whitney didn't yet understand that a connection existed between Clark and Var-El, but he immediately understood the implication of the presence of this ship on the future as they knew it. "Clark, I'm with you."

Clark looked at Indy, who nodded. "I did always want to play Buck Rogers."

Clark shared a glance with Whitney as they both wondered how Indy knew about a character from an old TV series they had seen in reruns of the Sci-Fi channel when they were kids. Oh, it had been old to them, but they knew that meant the 1970s, not the 1930s that was required if Indy knew about Buck Rogers.

Indy saw the shared glance and interpreted it to mean they didn't know who Buck Rogers was. But how could anyone from the States not know about the first syndicated comic strip or the subsequent radio serial? This was not the first time Indy had seen Clark or Whitney give an odd response to a common, everyday situation. Who really are these guys and what are they really doing here? Wondered Indy.

"Let's go," said Gretchen, deciding it for everyone by immediately heading off after Var-El.

They started moving at a brisk pace for the first forty feet as they crossed the open floor of the hanger. But as they passed under the edge of the broad saucer section, a slight hesitation entered their stride. Oh, it wasn't as though they had to duck their heads; the underside of the saucer was at least twenty-five feet above them. No, it was the immense feeling of weight the ship projected; a very different feeling than any airplane they had ever been around.

And the feeling of weight, strength, and power became even more profound as they made their way up the entry ramp. Indy, who had spent more time around naval vessels than all of the others combined, quickly pointed out how the roughly thirty-six inch thick hull was far greater than any battleship's.

Feeling a lot of trepidation, the four of them found Var-El waiting for them at the top of the ramp.

"I think things will be much easier, if we proceed to the control deck," said Var in German. After waiting for Gretchen to translate, Var again gestured for them to follow him and then proceeded deeper into the ship.

They found themselves in a broad corridor paneled in a raspberry-sherbet shade of wood none of them had seen before. Between cross-corridors and doorways, the walls were filled with works of art. Mostly landscapes and cityscapes, it was quickly obvious none of these vistas occurred anywhere on earth. The skies were all done in varying shades of green. The buildings appeared to tower miles into the sky. Several showed large cities located under what looked like protective domes. One appeared to show a giant volcano spewing rivers of molten gold. Finally, at the end of this hallway was a large mural showing a giant crystalline structure sprawling along the top of a rugged ridge with large craggy mountains in the background.

Something seemed to draw Clark to this particular painting and he paused to look more closely. Soon, he was slowly tracing his fingers bare inches from the surface along a graceful spire located near one end of the beautiful structure.

Var noticed the others had paused and turned back to see what had attracted their attention. "That is my ancestral home," he explained. "It has been the seat of our power for almost ten thousand of your years."

While Gretchen was translating to the transfixed Clark, Whitney wandered across the hallway and peeked through the crystal window of a closed door.

"Holy shit!" exclaimed Whitney. "You guys have to come and look at this."

Indy and Gretchen hurried over while Clark lingered for a moment longer by the painting. But when he heard gasps from both Indy and Gretchen, his curiosity got the better of him and he followed the others.

And when he had his turn at the window, he quickly understood their response. The room was filled with robots. He couldn't see the whole room from this window, but in this portion, it had to contain at least fifty. They looked like they were the leftovers from every sci-fi movie of the 1950s, with a few thrown in from the 1960s and 1970s for good measure. From where they stood, no two of the robots looked to be exactly alike. Most were roughly man-sized, but the number of visible appendages ranged from two to at least ten. If the ship's design alone hadn't been sufficient proof of its alien origin, then this large collection of robots, any one of which would have taxed early twenty-first century design limits, would have quelled any remaining objections to that theory.

"That's the robot storage area. They were suppose to do most of the maintenance work on the ship, but unfortunately the ship brain that controls them was severely damaged during my rough arrival. They can be programmed manually, but, while I have been here, it has generally been easier to let the Germans do most of the maintenance," explained Var.

What have the Germans learned from all of this hardware? Wondered Clark. Even if much of it wasn't functional, it had to provide a lot of new ideas and shortcuts.

After allowing them a few minutes more to explore the view of the robot storage room, Var gestured that they should be on their way. Clark could have spent the whole evening staring at the contents of that room, but he quickly remembered they were on something like a tight schedule. They were on this base looking for leads on the location of Marion and Lana. Plus while their 'borrowed' uniforms were reasonably effective for chance encounters in the dark, these uniforms were unlikely to hold up in broad daylight.

Var led the way down the next corridor until they reached the grav-shaft. He paused to tell the ship brain to take the five of them to the upper control deck before turning back to the others. "This is my equivalent to your elevators," Var explained in German. "I have already instructed it to take us to the control deck. Just step into it one at a time and when you reach the highest level just step out of it normally."

Gretchen again translated for Clark and Whitney, but none of them understood exactly what Var meant, particularly since Gretchen didn't know the English word for elevator. So they were all watching with interest that quickly turned into a queasy sort of fear as Var slowly rose up the shaft without any visible means of support.

For a short second Clark thought Var-El was simply flying and he knew the secret of doing it without using 'speed mode'. But he immediately threw that theory out as he would hardly expect the four of them to fly.

Once Var had disappeared from view up the shaft, the four of them exchanged glances. Whitney, Indy, and Gretchen all wore expressions that said they didn't believe what they had just seen and none of them looked too excited to go first.

Finally, as the quasi-leader of the group and the only one who wasn't at risk of being hurt since he could simply shift to flying mode if the system failed, Clark stepped into the shaft. Reaching the center of the nine foot diameter shaft, Clark paused expectantly. In less than a second he felt himself rising. Well, he actually didn't feel himself rising; no, it felt more like he was standing perfectly still and the shaft was sliding down around him. And more than sliding down, it seemed like the whole shaft, and by extension the whole ship, was slowly rotating around him until by the time he reached the top it had rotated one hundred eighty degrees and he was facing in the opposite direction from where he had started. It had been one of the strangest feelings he had ever experienced.

When he reached the top, after passing three other intermediate openings, he was facing the open exit onto the command level. The doorway was about four feet away and before he started moving, he looked down. Big mistake. Nothing visible was supporting him and it was a straight drop of almost sixty feet to the level from which he had started. Even with all of his recent flying experience, or maybe because of his flying experience, Clark felt his body reflexively starting to shift into 'speed mode' as the first step towards starting to fly. Intellectually, he knew there was no real risk of falling or Var-El wouldn't have led them this way. So with an act of will he stopped the shift to 'speed mode'.

Carefully taking a step towards the opening, he found it felt like he was walking on an invisible surface, like a sheet of glass. Then suddenly the scene in the last Indiana Jones movie where Indy had to make 'the leap of faith' and step off into the abyss came to mind. He was definitely going to have to figure out how to ask Indy about that scene without giving away how he had heard about it. Of course, as he reached the threshold and stepped clear of the shaft, Clark wished he could figure out how to do the equivalent of throwing a handful of gravel to make it easier for the others.

It seemed like Clark had barely turned back towards the shaft when Indy's head was already rising into view. As Indy's upward motion came to a halt, Clark quickly called out, "Hank, don't look down, just walk towards me."

Gretchen came next and Clark repeated his warning. Whitney brought up the rear and as he came into view they saw his head swiveling all around looking left, right, up, and down. When he reached the top, he came bounding out.

"Clark, that was the most fun I can remember since I rode 'Freefall' at the Six Flags down in Dallas when my family was on vacation two years ago," said Whitney, his eyes still bright with enthusiasm.

"Six Flags?" asked Indy with a questioning expression on his face.

"Ah," responded Clark quickly in an attempt to cover Whitney's faux pas. "It is an amusement park similar to Coney Island. It was named for the six different flags that have flown in Texas down through the years."

Gretchen shook her head. "I have never understood the thrill of scary rides. I didn't enjoy that at all. I hope this place has stairs somewhere."

Indy took one more look at the gaping hole and nodded his head in agreement.

Getting past their first encounter with truly alien technology, the four turned to take their first good look at this 'command level'. They found themselves in a forty foot wide semi-circular space which filled half of the upper sphere of the ship. The grav-shaft they had just arrived in was located in the very center of the ship and therefore the space in front of them felt vaguely like the Omni Theater at the Metropolis Science Museum which Clark and Whitney had both visited when they were younger. This space had the same curved surface and looked ideal for displaying 'Omni' style movies.

The space was surprisingly empty compared to all of their preconceived notions from the movies. A single seat, which was obviously the command chair, was located in the center of the space on a six foot raised platform facing away from them and towards the large curved wall. The chair had several small monitors and control panels attached to its arms, but nothing obstructed the view forward. Since the room didn't have any windows, Clark assumed when the ship was in motion that images of the external view were somehow projected on the currently blank pale green surface. After a moment's thought Clark realized the color of the walls/ceiling were similar to the shade of the sky in many of the art works they had passed on the lowest level. Was this the color of the sky on his home world? Clark could feel his excitement surging. He had waited so long to find out about where he was from and now, deep in Nazi Germany, it looked like he was finally going to get some answers.

The only other furnishings in this space were to their right, along the wall which separated the two halves of the sphere. And the relatively normal looking couch and two armchairs were still being lowered into place by four robots. As soon as they were in position, three of the robots retreated through a doorway in the wall while the fourth remained and listened while Var-El gave it additional instructions.

The four of them hesitated to intrude or even move from the grav-shaft entrance until Var looked up and motioned them over.

"This is Unit Seven," began Var with a nod towards the robot which quickly inclined what passed for a head toward them. "It acts as my butler and takes care of my personal needs. I have asked it to provide refreshments. Is coffee good for everyone?"

After Gretchen had translated, they all nodded and the robot moved off without any further directions from Var. As it headed towards the same door in the wall used by the other robots, they all watched in fascination. It stood about six feet tall and walked on two legs, but there the similarities to a real person or C-3P0 from Star Wars ended. This robot had six arms. The longest upper pair were each about six feet long and made up of five segments allowing almost unlimited freedom of motion of the end grippers which had two fingers and an opposable thumb. The middle pair which much shorter and thinner and ended with a cluster of almost twenty digits each. Obviously the center pair were designed for delicate work. The lowest pair looked the most human; at least they were about the right length and ended in hands with the normal number of fingers. And the differences weren't just limited to the hands; the legs had three segments and the resulting double knee joints lent it a strange fluid motion not seen on any earth creature.

Once the robot disappeared through the doorway, they turned their attention back to Var-El, who gestured towards the seats.

"Please, take a seat," began Var as a small frown crossed his face. "This having to pause to have everything translated is very inconvenient. Please wait here, I will be back in a couple of minutes."

As Gretchen once again translated, Var strode over towards the command chair and ascended the ten steps. Once he was settled into the chair he reached in a drawer in one arm and pulled out what looked like a headband. After settling it on his temples, he pressed several control buttons before leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

The four watched for a few seconds, but nothing else visible happened. Finally, in his excitement and forgetting the whole 'Vulcan' cover story, Whitney whispered, "I can't believe we are on an actual freaking spaceship."

Since Whitney had never seen Clark's own spaceship, Clark was very tempted to tell him that not only was this a spaceship, but it seemed very likely to be from his original home planet. But Clark was still hesitant about letting Indy in on too much of the real situation and potentially disrupting the timeline. Not that this ship in Nazi hands didn't already put their future in extreme risk. Still, he felt it was best to wait on letting Indy in on the whole truth until they found out more of Var-El's story.

"Yeah," responded Clark also at a whisper. "Hearing Spock's stories about his ship and being in an actual functioning one are two completely different things."

Whitney stared blankly at Clark for a moment and then the cover story reference sank in and he gave the smallest of nods to let Clark know he understood.

"So is Var-El from Vulcan?" asked Indy.

Clark shook his head. "No, he doesn't look Vulcan. In fact, I have no idea what race or planet he is from. None of the races Spock has described to me look exactly human like Var-El does." This comment once again brought to mind the question that had puzzled him since his parents had told him about his true heritage nearly nine months earlier. If he had been born on an alien planet and had all of these amazing gifts, why did he look exactly like an earth-borne human? Perhaps he would finally learn the answer to this question from Var-El.

As Clark was pondering this question and the many others he would like to ask Var-El if they got some time alone, Unit Seven returned carrying a tray with five cups in one of its lower hands and a coffee pot in one of the longer upper hands. Using its free upper hand, it deftly lifted the first cup from the tray, filled it from the pot in the other hand, and presented it to Gretchen. After that, it filled and handed out cups to the three men in turn. When Clark received his cup he was surprised and a little disappointed to see a Nazi Swastika emblazed on the side. Once more he had to wonder about Var-El's relationship with the Nazis. Was he in league with them? Was it going to be up to them to stop Var-El from destroying their future?

Clark took a sip of his coffee. It was the typical dark, bitter variety they had found everywhere during their travels in Germany. It had been only five days, well almost six, since they arrived, but he was really starting to miss the coffee at The Talon. Oh well, at least it was a change from the ale and watered wine he had consumed during the three weeks they had spent in the Roman Empire.

As he was taking a second sip, Clark watched Var-El raise his hands and rub his eyes for a moment before removing the headband. Clark wondered what the whole deal with the headband was about as Var-El rose from the chair, descended the stairs and returned to where they were waiting.

Taking the cup the robot offered, Var-El responded with a 'Thank you, Unit Seven," before dropping into the remaining vacant seat.

It took a moment before it sank in with Clark and the others. Var-El had just answered in clear, accent-free American English.

"You just learned English?" Clark gaped.

"It seemed like it would make things easier, if we didn't have to translate everything."

"But how?" asked Clark. None of the 'special' gifts he had developed to date, like the strength, speed, heat and x-ray vision, or flying, had involved enhanced mental abilities.

"Fortunately, the ship's brain has been monitoring all radio broadcasts for the two years I have been here. It has built extensive databanks on all of the major languages. I just hadn't bothered to download them, as German was all I have needed until now."

Clark tried to imagine downloading an entire language into his mind in a matter of a couple of minutes. It seemed like something Chloe or Lana could do with their nanobot' enhanced minds and the right interface. But how was it possible without that kind of enhancement? Or did Var-El have something similar? Not understanding his birthright was going to drive him crazy.

And Clark was tired of feeling that way. Here was the first opportunity to find out about his past. Or if not his personal past, then at least something about the planet he was from. But it wasn't going to happen unless he revealed the truth about himself. Well, maybe it wasn't necessary to reveal the truth to Indy and the others, but he definitely needed to reveal his heritage to Var-El.

Even though Chloe and Lana and to a lesser extent Lex and Whitney knew his secret, it was still difficult for Clark to talk about himself after a lifetime of hiding the truth. Before he could chicken out, Clark accelerated his body up into 'speed mode' and moved over next to Var-El.

"Var-El, there are things we need to talk about. Is there somewhere we can talk in private?"

Var-El had automatically shifted into 'speed mode' as Clark began to blur and move. And seeing Clark accelerate finally answered the question raised by his powerful handshake.

"Please, call me Var. Calling me Var-El is like always addressing you as Clark Kent." When Clark nodded, Var glanced over to Clark's three companions who all appeared to be frozen in place. "Do they know who you really are?"

Clark wanted to say he didn't even know who he really was, but instead responded. "Whitney knows some of the truth, but not the others. And it is probably safest if we can keep it that way."

Var nodded and he understood. There had been plenty of times he wished the tribunal didn't know as much about him as they did.

"Okay, Clark. Let me give them the standard 'light show' I have done for some of the Germans. It will keep them occupied for a few minutes while we move to my quarters and chat."

Clark nodded his acceptance. With a big grin on his face about the likelihood of learning about his home world in the next few minutes, he moved back to his seat before dropping out of 'speed mode'.

"I came to Earth from my home planet of Krypton on a mission of exploration as well as a test flight for a new drive I have been developing," began Var deciding to stick to the basics for now. "This drive has the ability to fold space so my ship can transition across light-years in an instant." Var paused to look at their faces. "Am I going too fast?"

Indy and Gretchen had nodded quickly. Clark was just staring blankly at Var while repeating the word 'Krypton' over and over in his head.

Surprisingly, it was Whitney who spoke up. "What you're saying is if we drew two marks on a piece of paper to represent Krypton and Earth, then a straight line between them would represent the shortest path light would travel through 'normal' space to get from one to the other. But if we fold the paper in half so the two marks are only separated by the thickness of the paper, your drive would be like a pin pushed straight through the paper allowing you to get from one point to the other without traveling the long path required by light."

Everyone stared at Whitney for a moment. Var had never heard anyone elucidate his basic concept in such clear and simple terms. Indy and Gretchen assumed his knowledge came from his and Clark's interaction with the Vulcans. However Clark was the most surprised. Frankly, he had always pegged Whitney as the stereotypical 'dumb jock'.

"What?" said Whitney to all of the stares he was receiving. "It is a theory Asimov and many others have been writing about for a long time."

Var, of course, didn't truly understand the reference, nor did Indy or Gretchen, as Isaac Asimov was still a young, relatively obscure writer in the recent scientific offshoot of the more mainstream pulp fiction genre.

"I would like to meet this Asimov someday to discuss his theories and see how they compare with my theories and implementation," responded Var. Then taking in Clark's impatient expression, he continued, "However, that can wait for another time. Anyway, at the start of my test flight, as I was about to switch from normal anti-gravity flight mode to teleportation drive, my ship suffered a mishap. Well, I am sure you all saw the giant gash blown out of the underside of the saucer. It only happened a fraction of a second before the transition and it was impossible to abort. So when I arrived at the Earth, most of my anti-gravity system was not working and I crash-landed here."

"Here as in Germany?" asked Clark beginning to understand why Var might be dealing with the Nazis.

"Here, as in this exact spot. My ship weighs, in your units, about seventy-five thousand tons. With the anti-gravity system off-line, it would be virtually impossible to move it with existing Earth technology."

Clark seemed to remember World War II vintage aircraft carriers and battleships weighed around thirty to forty thousand tons and ran to eight or nine hundred feet in length. He had seen the great thickness of the hull of this spaceship, but it still didn't seem sufficient to support Var's number, which was almost double. If Var hadn't screwed up the translation, the spaceship must be made of some extremely dense material.

"So," asked Gretchen, "your ship wasn't brought to this base, but rather the base was built around your ship?"

"Yes," answered Var. For a moment his mind flashed back to that horrifically scary day. The twin timers measuring the time to impact of the incoming weapon and the time to the availability of the teleportation drive had been counting down in perfect synch. At zero, he had been thrown about violently and everything had gone black. When the emergency lights had come on, he discovered he had been thrown from the command chair and was lying on the tilted floor on the far side of the command deck. The safety web built into the chair had been rated for over twenty G's, more than enough to kill him. Plus he was pinned under a control console which had to weigh a thousand pounds. Yet he was unhurt and had easily lifted the console free. That had been his first experience of his new-found abilities which seemed to have spontaneously developed with his arrival on Earth.

"I have been exchanging technological information for materials, fabrication support, and labor to get my ship working again."

Hmm, thought Clark, so that is where all the Nazi wonder weapons came from during the Second World War. The Germans hadn't been scientific geniuses; they had had outside help.

"Now," continued Var, "would you like to see some footage of Krypton? My ship, Wegthor's Shadow, named after one of Krypton's moons, was an intercontinental passenger liner before I converted it to be my test ship. Stored in the ship's brain are the flight records of the countless journeys it made during its two hundred year career. Well, in Earth years that would be more like two hundred eighty years. Anyway, the ship can project the view from any of its trips. Would you like to see a little of Krypton?"

All four of the others quickly nodded their heads vigorously. Even Clark was almost wishing he could postpone his conversation with Var until later. And this became even truer once Var got things rolling.

"Ship!" began Var in the special tone that would let the ship's brain know a command was about to be issued. "Please provide the visual records of one of your voyages. Also provide commentary in English with English units for distance, time, etc. And answer any security category three or lower questions these people may ask."

**+-+ Confirmed.+-+**

The lights in the room quickly went dark and then just as quickly came back up. Only now it was as though they were sitting outside on a brilliantly sun-lit day, a perfectly normal day except the sky was a pale green and the sun a deep ruby red. The view stretched from horizon to horizon only blocked in part by the raised command chair. To their left a giant crystal dome stretched for what looked like miles. Through the dome they could see a forest of skyscrapers that put the recently completed Empire State building to shame.

The view of the dome held still for only a moment before they experienced a sense of motion and the dome began to slide backwards in their peripheral vision.

**+-+ This is the start of my fifty thousandth loop between the capitol city of Kryptonopolis on the continent of Lurvan and Argo City on the continent of Urrika with stops at Kandor and Xan. The distance from Kryptonopolis to Argo City is sixty-two thousand miles with a typical travel time of twenty-seven hours at Mach 3.2. Although for this special commemorative flight, pure speed had not been the goal. Rather this flight took a more circuitous route to pass many of the historically and ecologically important sites on the planet.+-+**

Clark remembered from Geography class that the Earth had a circumference of about twenty-five thousand miles. If these cities of Kryptonopolis and Argo City were on the opposite sides of the world, Krypton had a circumference of at least one hundred twenty five thousand miles. The planet was huge. If the planet's density was similar to Earth's, what would be the force of gravity at its surface? Did this start to explain where his great strength came from?

The city dome of Kryptonopolis started to recede into the distance as the ship began to pick up speed. The view they were experiencing was so clear and life-like, it seemed like they should have been feeling the wind blowing through their hair.

Suddenly, four giant streaks of emerald green came shooting down out of the ruby sun. In a moment, four giant creatures were flying in loose formation with the ship.

"What are those things?" asked Gretchen as she felt her body try to worm its way deeper into the meager protection of the couch. Whatever the creatures were, they were certainly the meanest, most vicious looking things she had ever seen. And also they were by far the largest. Gauging them against the visible saucer section of the ship, these creatures had a wingspan of at least one hundred fifty feet and a total body length from the tip of their snout to the barbed tail of two hundred feet.

**+-+These are examples of one of the smaller species of flame dragons found on Krypton. The mountain variety grows to approximately three times this length.+-+**

My god, thought Clark, that would be even bigger than this ship.

"Why are they called flame dragons?" asked Whitney as he watched in fascination.

**+-+The dragons can spout a very powerful flame from special organs located in the walls of their throats. This fire can burn through a six inch thick plate of Kryptonillium in five seconds. Fortunately, after the dragons produce a five second burst, it takes them approximately six minutes to recharge. Generally, I can outrun them before they can get off a second shot.+-+**

The dragons had now been holding the formation for over two minutes and it felt like the ship had been accelerating the whole time.

"How fast can they fly?" continued Whitney.

**+-+The dragons can maintain a cruising speed of mach 1.8. However they have been clocked during dives at mach 4.6.+-+**

Clark was starting to understand why the ship had a thirty-six inch thick hull. Krypton was beginning to sound like a pretty scary place to live.

Just as the dragons began to fall behind and a mountain range started to rise above the horizon, Var moved over to Clark and touched his shoulder.

"Clark, how about we go have that talk now?"

Clark had to struggle to tear his eyes away from the panoramic view and look at Var. On one hand he wanted to stay and see more of his home planet. But on the other hand, he needed more than just this travelogue and he wouldn't get that without talking to Var privately. Plus, he needed to remember the real reason they were back here in Nazi Germany; it was to find some way of saving Chloe and Lex. They had come in search of some mysterious device that they still didn't understand or know how to use. But now the perfect opportunity to find out more had been thrust into his lap. Hopefully, if he explained what had happened to them, Var might understand and be able to help.

"Yeah, let's do it." Clark responded. Then he raised his voice a little to get the others' attention. "Ah, guys, Var and I are going to talk. We will be back in a few minutes."

Whitney, Indy, and Gretchen all just nodded and continued to watch the wild country unfold before them. They were so engrossed, none of them even wondered what Clark and Var needed to discuss in private.

Clark rose to his feet and then swayed for a moment. Their apparent speed through the air was sufficient to momentarily confuse even Clark's incredible sense of balance. But by focusing on the blank wall behind them rather than the aerial view in the other directions, he was quickly able to get his touch of vertigo back under control.

It was only a trip of fifteen feet to reach the spot where a doorway in the blank wall slid open. It took a moment after they stepped through and the door slid shut for Clark's body to grasp that they had been on solid ground the whole time and the sense of motion and flying had all been an illusion.

After passing down a short hallway with several doorways which Var said led to storage and maintenance areas, they passed through another door that led directly into Var's onboard quarters.

The room they entered looked to be a combination office and sitting area. The entire wall behind the desk was one large display which at the moment was showing a life-size image of six people. Since one was Var and the others were a woman his age and four younger people ranging from mid-teens to early twenties, Clark guessed they were Var's family.

Clark walked straight over to take a closer look at the display. All of the people in the shot were dressed in tunics, which were subtly different than anything Clark had ever seen before in real life or the movies. Still, even without ever having seen anything like it before, he had the immediate impression that this was formal attire for some special occasion. Or perhaps it was the expressions on their faces that gave it away.

"Var, is this your family?"

Var, without conscious thought, began to stroke his fingers over his crystalline wedding bracelet as he looked with longing at the giant photo. "Yes, Clark. Standing next to me is my wife, Salva. Beside her are our oldest son, Zim, and his new wife, Byma. On the other side of me are our daughter, Kayla, and our younger son, Jor. This picture was taken at Zim and Byma's wedding which was just two days before I left Krypton."

"It must be tough to have been away from your family for so long," said Clark with a hint of sympathy and understanding in his voice. His recent three week adventure to ancient Rome was still fresh in his memory. It had been the longest he had ever been away from his family and for much of that time he had had no idea if he would ever make it home again.

"Yes, when I left, I never expected to be gone this long. Hopefully, if the remaining system checks go smoothly, I will be on my way back soon." Var paused for a moment; this was not the time to get maudlin.

Forcing his attention away from thoughts of his family, Var turned his attention to the young man standing in front of him. Although young man seemed almost to be stretching it, as he didn't look much older than Jor had looked before Var's departure.

"So, Clark, how is it you are on Earth and don't speak any Kryptonese? Before meeting you, I thought I was the first person from Krypton to visit Earth in recent memory."

Clark hesitated for a moment. How much should he tell Var? He was still worried about disrupting the timeline, but the risk didn't seem as great with Var as it was with Indy. No, if Var was returning to Krypton soon, his knowing a little about events on Earth more than sixty years in the future shouldn't bring too much danger. And since Clark knew nothing about Krypton before meeting Var, he could hardly say anything about Krypton that would risk its future.

"Well, it is a little complicated. Oh, not why I don't know the Krypton language that is pretty straight forward. No, the more complicated part is what I am doing here. But hopefully, you will be able to shed a little light on that."

Var raised his eyebrow as much in wonder about where Clark was heading with this conversation as he did to indicate for Clark to continue. He had been stranded here for two years without any contact with anyone from home and then suddenly a kid from Krypton shows up apparently looking for his help.

Taking a deep breath, Clark decided to jump straight to the heart of the matter without a lot of hemming and hawing. "I will arrive on Earth fifty-three years from now at the age of three in a tiny ship just large enough to hold one child. I will have no memory of Krypton and will be raised by an Earth couple in America. I have never had any idea where I was originally from, but as soon as I saw your ship I saw the basic similarities of design and shape between it and my ship. That is why I guessed you might be from my home world and tested you with the handshake."

Var stared at Clark for a moment. This was not at all what he expected to hear from him. "You're . . . from the future?"

Clark nodded. "Yeah, a good friend of mine, well actually she is my girlfriend and her name is Chloe, she designed a time machine. However I am afraid the scientific details of how it works is beyond my current understanding. And how the time machine works is not immediately germane as to why I am here."

Clark turned and walked over to the nearby couch and dropped into its deep soft embrace. The material of the couch had a different feel than any material he had ever touched before. But whatever the material, it simply felt manmade rather than natural.

Clark was now facing the wall opposite the family portrait. At first he thought it was covered with a very detailed photo of some very rough and tumbled terrain, but after a few seconds he noticed small traces of movement: bird-like creatures flying, clouds moving, and off in the distance what looked like a waterfall made completely of fire. This was definitely the projection of some movie clip or a very realistic looking computer simulation.

But after a few second of staring at the view, Clark realized he needed to continue his story.

"I wasn't there when it happened, but my ship effectively attacked a good friend of mine named Lex. Well, it might not have been trying to attack him; I think he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. But the net effect is the same. Actually, I think I was the intended target, but I suspect it wouldn't have had the same debilitating affect on me."

Clark could see from the expression on his face that Var was not really following what Clark was trying to say. So he tried starting again. "My ship crashed when I arrived at age three like I said. My adoptive parents hid it away in an underground room near their house so my secret wouldn't be revealed. Being so young when I arrived, I didn't have any memories of the ship or my arrival as I grew up. I didn't find out about the ship until about nine months ago. Since I found out about it, and ever since it landed according to my parents, the ship has always been completely inert.

"Apparently, the ship has been missing a small piece ever since the crash. This piece is an octagonal shaped disk with some symbols inscribed on the surface. Symbols I now assume are in the Krypton language. Anyway, some people who work for Lex found it recently. Through a long involved sequence of events that don't really matter at the moment, Lex ended up leaning over the disk as it was placed in the mating slot in the ship. According to my Mom, who was present, the disk immediately released a powerful beam of light that struck Lex in the face. The beam was so powerful it lifted Lex into the air for several minutes. My Mom said she had a really strong impression the beam of light or energy or whatever was more than that and that it was transferring massive quantities of data.

"When it was over, Lex was left in some kind of coma. My Mom called me. When Chloe and I arrived, Chloe touched Lex and something happened to her." Clark paused for a moment. Chloe's nanobots weren't really relevant to what had originally happened to Lex; at least Clark didn't think so. But it was hard to explain why they were back here without describing Chloe's data from whatever had attacked her.

"Var, I need to deviate for a moment before I can explain the rest of what happened. Do you know about nanotechnology?"

Var felt he already had an inkling of what had happened to Clark's friend Lex, although that wouldn't explain what had happened later to his girlfriend, Chloe. It was probably best to hear what else Clark knew before discussing any preliminary theories.

"I'm sorry Clark. That word doesn't mean anything to me. Is it a word that would exist here in 1936?"

"Oh, good point. Your English is so good; I forgot it is all based on the English of the 1930s. Nanotechnology is the science of building things down on the atomic level. Things like miniature machines which consist of only a few thousand atoms."

"Ah," nodded Var. "I follow now. Our word for it is 'cvikota'. It is the basis for my ship's brain and the brains used for controlling much of the infrastructure of our cities. Additionally, there have been some applications in the material sciences, but most of that is still theoretical."

"Good," said Clark. "Then hopefully you will understand the next part. Chloe's body is saturated with nano-scale machines. I think she told me once it is on the order of fifty for every cell in her body or around four quadrillion in total. These miniature machines can repair any physical damage to her body almost instantaneously. They also keep her in perfect health so her body never ages. More importantly for the immediate situation, all of these machines act together as a massive three-dimensional computer array."

Var looked at Clark almost in shock. He didn't remember ever reading about any research to use cvikota in the field of medicine, but know that Clark had mentioned it, it seemed so obvious. And the computing power of what Clark had just described was almost unimaginable.

As Var's powerful brain extrapolated other potential results and applications, Clark continued his explanation. "Some of Chloe's 'bots, which is what we call the nano-machines, were introduced in Lex's body on an earlier occasion. I believe he has just as many in his body as Chloe, but due to safeguards built into Chloe's 'bots, the 'bots in Lex's body are supposed to be dormant except when Chloe touches him.

"I think whatever was in that beam of light which struck Lex got into the 'bots in his body. When Chloe touched him, whatever it was, jumped into her system, too. Chloe said it was trying to take control of her, but she had been able to glean some information from it while fighting to retain control of her body. In particular, she said she saw a device with more alien markings being handed by a German officer to Henry Jones during the opening ceremony of the upcoming Olympics. She couldn't explain what the device was or how it worked, but she had the impression that somehow the device could counteract whatever was happening to her."

Some of the fear Clark had know for the past week returned to his voice and eyes as he finished. "She said the invader would overwhelm her 'bot system in less than fifteen minutes and then it might be too late to save her. So Whitney, Lana, and I quickly used the time machine to come back here hoping to find the device and figure out how to use it before the window to save Chloe and Lex closes."

"Lana?" asked Var as this was someone Clark hadn't mentioned before.

"Lana Lang. She and Henry's wife, Marion, got separated from us two days ago when we were trying to rescue Henry from some of the fucking Nazi Gestapo guys back here. Actually, it is because of Lana and Marion that we are here at Peenemunde. The one, who took them away, a Major Biberach, is part of a special 'Todeshauptgottnachfolger' branch of the Gestapo, which is headquartered here. We hadn't been able to discover where he has taken the women, so we came here to search their records for any clues. It was while we were doing that search that I sensed your ship powering up."

"Hmm, I have actually met Major Biberach before," said Var, his expression adding he didn't hold the Major in too high of regard. "But I have no idea where he is at present. I will, of course, keep my eyes and ears open for any information about him or your friends.

"However, in regard to your friends, Chloe and Lex, I think I have an idea what happened."

Clark stared at Var with almost a sense of disbelief. He had been struggling so hard for the past week to find an answer for Lex and Chloe's condition. Was the solution about to fall into his lap?

Var ran the numbers in his head one more time. Clark said he would arrive on Earth fifty-three years in the future – fifty-three earth years. Factoring in the two earth years Var had been here, that would be just under just under forty Kryptonese years after Var had departed Krypton, and also forty years after his disastrous meeting with the Supreme Council. If the analysis he had presented to the Council had turned out to be true, catastrophic failure of the Krypton eco-system would have occurred in about forty years. So, if Clark's tiny ship had used a propulsion system similar to his own teleportation drive, its departure from Krypton would have roughly coincided with the death of the planet.

If Var assumed that scenario was correct, then whoever sent Clark to Earth would have known it was going to be a one way trip. And if that was the case, the ship might have been intended to perform additional functions besides simply transporting him to Earth.

"Clark, how old are you?"

"I turned sixteen about six months ago. Well, I am not absolutely certain of the date. My parents didn't know my birthday, so they selected the day they found me to be my birthday. Since I looked about three at the time, that's how I ended up thinking of myself as sixteen."

"That's close enough, Clark. I do think the beam of light from your ship which hit your friend was intended for you." Var paused and ran his fingers through his thick black hair for a moment. "I guess you're going to need a short Kryptonian history lesson to understand this part."

Clark eagerly nodded; he was excited to learn anything he could about his heritage.

"About eight hundred years ago, well, eight hundred Kryptonian years, not that it matters at the moment, lived one of the greatest Kryptonian scientists, Garf-Og. He discovered a method to greatly enhance the mental abilities of the Kryptonian race. This technique increased the analytical abilities of adult Kryptonians by about a factor of three and also provides near photographic memory abilities. This combination makes things like learning a new language in a few minutes possible. Anyway, the technique involved is a two stage process. The first stage occurs before birth and involves a complex series of genetic and hormonal treatments and immersion in specific electro-magnetic fields over a number of months. This complicated regimen is not possible or practical in a Mother's womb, therefore for the past eight hundred years, fetuses are brought to term in artificial wombs in a place we call the 'Hall of Gestation'."

Clark felt something akin to queasiness. Growing up on a farm, he had been around the natural progression of pregnancy and birth for cattle, horses, even cats and dogs, all his life. Now to find out he had been given birth by some cold, sterile machine was sort of disquieting.

"The second stage of the process," continued Var "occurs on a child's twelfth birthday, which in Earth years would be at about age sixteen and a half. This portion of the procedure, called 'Purl Nous', involves stimulating the recipient's brain with a massive, fast jolt of data. The pre-natal treatment results in roughly an order of magnitude increase in the neural pathways in the brain; however at birth these additional pathways are mostly dormant. It is the brain's effort to protect itself from information overload during Purl Nous which 'flips the switch' and turns on all of the Kryptonians' extra mental abilities.

"Clark, I think your Kryptonian parents, or who ever it was that sent you, expected your trip to Earth to be a one-way voyage. I assume you had the normal pre-birth treatments all Kryptonians receive. So, since you wouldn't reach an appropriate age for the 'Purl Nous' until long after you arrived on Earth, I think the ship was designed to perform the 'Purl Nous' treatment on you once you reached the prescribed age. At least what happened to your friend Lex sounds similar to the Purl Nous procedure.

"I am going to take a wild guess and say either the crash damaged the ship or the missing piece made a difference. Either way, when the disk was inserted into the ship, it must have activated some timer mechanism. And once the ship realized the date, it performed the Purl Nous procedure on the first available recipient without first ascertaining whether that person was you."

For a moment Clark just sat there almost in a daze. Although it wasn't clear, even to him, whether the biggest contributor was revulsion over the treatments the Kryptonians where willing to submit themselves to in the name of progress, or excitement that if he went through this 'Purl Nous' procedure, he might have mental abilities to rival Chloe's.

It didn't take long for excitement to win out. "Var, can you perform the Purl Nous procedure on me?"

Var quickly shook his head. "I don't have the necessary equipment. When I left Krypton, I expected to be gone for a couple of weeks, perhaps a month tops. And I wasn't traveling with any children. Therefore I didn't even think about installing the required equipment. Sorry, Clark."

Clark nodded. It would have made things so much simpler if he could have undergone the procedure now. But since when had his life ever been simple? Never, to the best of his recollection.

So it looked like he was going to have to catch up to his own tiny ship and figure out how to have it perform this 'Purl Nous' procedure.

"Var, when I get back to my time, do you have any idea how I would get my ship to initiate the 'Purl Nous' procedure for me?"

Var paused to think for a moment before answering. "I am not certain. This octagonal disk sounds like the key. You said it has symbols on it? Perhaps if I knew what they said, it would help me to understand. Do you know what the symbols are? Or can you at least draw them for me?"

Clark shook his head. "Sorry, I have never seen the disk myself. However Lana has seen it and she has a photographic memory like you talked about. Hopefully we can track her down and you can get her to describe it."

Var nodded in turn; he did really want to help Clark. But Clark's whole story had some very scary implications. Was he, as an infant, the only person to reach Earth when the cataclysmic end finally overtook Krypton? What happened to the rest of the populace? Did they evacuate to some other planet? Or was Clark the only survivor of their whole race?

If Clark was the last of their kind and he didn't even have any knowledge of his heritage, Var felt duty bound to provide what information he could.

"Clark, I hope we can find your friend Lana soon, so I can see if I can help with understanding what is going on with your ship. In the meantime, are there any questions about Krypton I can answer for you?"

Clark's mind almost boggled at the challenge of picking a first topic from the hundreds of things about his home he had always wanted to know. But since Var wasn't from his own time, he wouldn't know anything about the most important question – who were his mother and father and why had they sent him to Earth alone.

So if questions about his immediate family didn't work, what was the next most important question? Certainly things like trivia about the history of the planet could wait for later. Then thinking about the planet reminded him of the flight across Krypton Whitney and the others were currently witnessing. And that in turn brought to mind the comment the ship's brain made about the size of the planet. Hmm. . . .

"Var, the ship's brain mentioned the distance from Kryptonopolis to . . . ah . . . Argo City? The distance it described would indicate the circumference of Krypton is at least five times the circumference of Earth. Now, unless Krypton is made up of material with a much lower density than the Earth, the gravity at the surface of the planet must be many times the gravity on Earth. Now this may, in part, explain our tremendous strength," and Clark paused for a moment until Var nodded for him to go on without saying Clark was headed down the wrong path. "From what I have read, Earth scientists theorize a species developing on a high G planet would be short and squat with thick bones to support their apparent weight. And with all of our other gifts like the speed mode, the flying, the x-ray and heat vision, and all the others, how is it we look exactly like earth humans? Evolutionary theory says we should look radically different. So why not?"

"Well, Clark, to start off, the density of Krypton's core is actually higher than the earth's since it is mostly composed of Kryptonillium, which is much higher on the periodic table than iron. However, our extra strength on Krypton is perfectly balanced against the higher gravity. I mean when I am there my apparent strength is normal human. In my prime I could bench-press just a little over my body weight. I certainly didn't have the almost unlimited strength I do here. And all of the other special abilities you mentioned? They don't exist on Krypton either.

"The only significant difference I can see between Earth and Krypton, well, ignoring the gravity field issue for the moment, is the sun. Krypton's sun is an older red giant while Earth's is a much younger main sequence yellow. I don't see why this difference in the suns would have this kind of effect on our abilities, but I can, I think, explain why we look exactly like these Earth people."

Clark found himself sitting up a little straighter, almost leaning forward in his seat, as Var continued.

"Our race is not native to Krypton." And here Var stopped for a minute to let the words sink in. "All archeological evidence of Kryptonians starts about 12,500 years ago. Hmmm . . . that would be a bit over 17,000 Earth years."

It felt for a moment like Clark's heart missed a beat. Chloe had been born slightly over 17,000 years earlier. Could those two dates be merely a coincidence?

Var didn't notice the expression on Clark's face as he continued. "Krypton has gone through several dark ages since then, so all records of those times have long since been lost. But recently, archeologists have uncovered evidence that an alien race was also present on Krypton during the first few hundred years of our presence. Most scholars now agree the Kryptonians were brought to Krypton by these aliens, whom we refer to as the Marvaders. We have also surmised they 'seeded' humans on numerous other worlds throughout this area of the galaxy as well. This is based on a starmap we found. We have identified six worlds the map indicated to have human inhabitants and we have found humans on all of them. These worlds have pretty diverse environments, yet the people always look human. So it appears the Marvaders were genetically altering the people to survive on the selected host planet."

Clark had been only half listening as his thoughts kept turning to Chloe and her original civilization back before the last ice age. There must be some connection between that civilization and Var's story about the first appearance of Kryptonians on Krypton.

"Var, archeological evidence of humans on the Earth goes way back, at least several million years."

Var nodded. "I suspected Earth was the source of humans, too. Kryptonians are not the only species that abruptly appeared at the same time. Dogs and monkeys also appeared then. Now when we searched the indicated planets with our telescopes, we found many planets with one or two of the species. But only on Earth did our telescopes see all three. And that is why I selected the Earth as the destination of my first test flight with my teleportation drive."

Satellite photos of the Earth he had seen on the internet came to mind for Clark. Oh, he hadn't had any trouble picking out the family farm or Smallville High in these photos, but the resolution wasn't high enough to see or recognize any individuals or even the species. So how could the Kryptonians make out that kind of detail when they were observing from many light-years away rather than from just a couple of hundred miles up?

"Var, how could you possibly see anything as small as people or dogs with your telescope? I mean we are talking about seeing across light-years of distance."

Var gave a small shrug. "In the way your adopted people are very good with nanotechnology; my people are good at manipulating gravity. We have been able to use non-physical gravity lenses with an effective width nearly equal to the diameter of our solar system. When your telescope has lenses that measure about thirty light-minutes across, you can achieve some pretty remarkable resolutions even across many light-years."

Clark nodded. If the Kryptonians could build anti-gravity drives capable of levitating this incredibly massive ship, a solar system spanning gravity telescope didn't sound impossible. Of course, his adopted people didn't have nearly the nanotech expertise Var was assuming. What nanotech did exist was mostly leftover from Chloe's original civilization. Could Var also be exaggerating their gravity telescope capabilities? But if the grav-telescope was just smoke and mirrors, how had Var known to come to Earth? No, what Var said must be the truth. Why should he lie?

Clark was about to continue their conversation when abruptly Var swung around and stared intently off in a northerly direction as though he was seeing or hearing something. Clark followed his gaze and cranked up his x-ray vision. With an extreme effort he could penetrate all the way through the thick outer hull of the ship before ultimately being stymied by the lead based paint of the hanger.

Assuming the lead must be having the same effect on Var's vision, Clark turned to his other senses to try and discover what had caught Var's attention. The only sense he possessed which would penetrate the hanger wall was his most recently acquired one, the ability to directly sense electro-magnetic fields.

Scanning the nearest area, he could detect a number of signals he had come to associate with the generators in car engines, but they didn't seem to be converging on their current position. So that couldn't be what was causing Var's reaction.

Expanding the range of his senses, Clark next picked up the two powerful radio broadcast towers he had noticed earlier. One was still broadcasting in what seemed like Morse Code while the other was broadcasting at a different frequency with a signal Clark couldn't help but associate with music. However these towers were about twenty degrees to the left of where Var was staring.

Focusing in the exact direction Var was looking, Clark could make out a handful of overlapping signals which all felt like Morse Code. However Clark was unable to make any sense of these signals.

Finally, Clark couldn't hold his patience any longer. "What is it, Var?"

Var held up a single finger motioning Clark to wait as he continued to stare fixedly to the north. After thirty seconds, Var lowered his finger. But when he spoke, it was not to Clark but to his ship.

"Ship, please display a map extending one hundred fifty kilometers in all directions from our current position. Highlight our current position and a location at thirteen degrees fifty-three minutes east longitude, fifty-four degrees forty-two minutes north latitude."

Almost instantly the panoramic view being projected on the wall in front of them was replaced by a large map. At the extreme bottom edge of the map was a spot labeled 'Berlin'. At the center of the map was a symbol labeled Peenemunde. Due north of their position was another symbol labeled with the map coordinates Var had requested. This spot was located out in the Baltic Sea about one third the distance from Peenemunde to the edge of the map. If the map extended one hundred fifty kilometers like Var had requested, then the spot was about fifty kilometers or just over thirty miles from their current location.

"Var, what is it?" repeated Clark.

Var stared at the map for a few seconds more before turning back to Clark.

"Clark, I just intercepted a message from your Major Biberach. He is on a ship at those coordinates. A ship he identified as the battleship Hitler. His message is very strange. It says most of the crew had been subverted by two women and he and the few remaining loyal men are barricaded in the radio room. Then he keeps demanding over and over that the ship must be destroyed to prevent these women from escaping back into the Fatherland."

Var paused to stare off to the north again for a moment before shaking his head. "The message just keeps repeating, but I can almost feel the hysteria creeping into the radioman's cadence. Clark, does this message make any sense to you?"

If Biberach was talking about two women, it must be Lana and Marion, Clark realized. He felt a momentary surge of relief that he once again knew where the girls were. It only took a moment's thought about the comment that these women had subverted most of the crew for Clark to remember a conversation with Chloe at her palace in Rome shortly after the events in the arena. In that conversation she had admitted to using her 'bots in her past to control entire armies and then use them to subjugate empires. If Chloe had passed the technique on to Lana, it was possible she could have gained control of the ship.

"Yeah, I think it does," began Clark. "When the girl's were abducted, Lana left a message saying Biberach was taking them to Hitler. But none of us had heard of a ship with that name, so we assumed she meant 'der Fűhrer'. However that version didn't make a lot of sense either, as he was out of the country and isn't scheduled to return until the night before the Olympic opening ceremonies."

"As far as the other part of the message, Lana does have some 'gifts' of her own. Oh, they are very different from our 'gifts'. But given some time, it is possible Lana could subvert enough key officers and men to effectively control the ship."

Var slowly shook his head. Clark and Whitney seemed like little more than boys and he suspected Lana would turn out to be of a similar age. Yet they had traveled back in time to a place where they didn't even speak the language and still they were managing to hold their own against the entire Nazi regime. How did one girl manage to take control of a warship with upwards of two thousand men in less than two days? And this other girl, the mysterious 'Chloe', had developed a time machine. For someone lost on a strange world with no knowledge of his true heritage, Clark had managed gather a very unique and powerful group of friends.

"Var, how exactly did you intercept the message from Biberach?"

"I monitor all of the Morse Code transmissions within my range, which is about two hundred kilometers. I do it mostly as a mental exercise to keep my mind sharp as there isn't a whole lot of true mental stimulation around here. You should try it too; you never know when you might come across a useful tidbit like this. Oh, right, it is probably a lot more difficult if all the transmissions in the area are in a language you don't know."

Damn, thought Clark, once more wishing he knew more languages besides English and Latin. If they were going to end up on more missions like this in the future, he hoped he could get his ship to perform this Purl Nous thing on him and then acquire a device like the headband Var had used to learn English.

"Has there been any response to Biberach's message?" asked Clark, as he remembered Biberach's request. With more than a hint of concern in his voice, he added. "Do the Germans have anything in the area which is capable of destroying a battleship if they believe Biberach's message?"

Var was just beginning to shrug his shoulders in response to Clark's question about the Nazis local weapons capabilities when they both felt it. A powerful surge of electro-magnetic force was building nearby. The only thing Clark had ever felt like it before was when Var's test of his ship's anti-gravity drive had first awakened his newest ability. Somewhere nearby an anti-gravity drive was coming online and it wasn't Var's ship. Both their heads immediately swiveled to the south, but once again their x-ray vision was blocked by the lead paint of the hanger.

In less than a second after they first became aware of this new power source, Var was on his feet and moving out of the room in 'speed mode' with Clark in hot pursuit. On their way to the grav-shaft exit from this level they passed briefly through the control room where Whitney, Indy, and Gretchen were still watching the ship's travelogue of Krypton. In his peripheral vision, Clark noticed the ship was currently circling an enormous volcano which was pouring forth what looked like streams of molten gold in place of normal lava.

Var dove into the grav-shaft without bothering to use its levitation function. Instead he switched to flying as he dropped its sixty foot length. At the bottom he switched back to speed running, which was faster in the confines of the ship.

In less than a second Var and Clark were running down the ship's extended ramp and out onto the floor of the hanger. They passed through the door Clark and the others had entered through only an hour earlier. Once outside, they raced along the side of the building until they reached the edge of the long concrete runway where they finally had a clear view of this power source.

As they paused, they saw brilliant lights shining in another hanger about six buildings further down the runway. Moving steadily out of this well-lit hanger and into the dark shadows of the night was another giant ship of the same general configuration as Var's ship. However this ship had been painted a bright, vivid red with large black on white swastikas adorning the upper and lower surfaces of the saucer section. Whoever had dreamed up the paint scheme didn't want to leave any doubts as to the ownership of this magnificent machine.

Unfortunately, this new ship diverged from Var's ship in another way besides its gaudy paint job. This ship was bristling with easily visible weapons. The top of its central sphere had gun turret with two fourteen inch guns; the whole assembly looked like it had lifted straight from some existing battleship. The lower portion of the sphere had two side-mounted turrets with another pair of fourteen inch guns each. And in addition to this heavy hardware, Clark could see a series of smaller five inch guns ringing the perimeter of the central sphere. Finally, he could also make out countless batteries of anti-aircraft guns. This new ship was a true flying battleship. And with its anti-gravity drive, its hull was probably as thick as or thicker than any existing waterborne counterpart. With hardly more than a glance, Clark knew this was by far the most powerful weapon ever built on the Earth as of the middle of the twentieth century.

Clark glanced over at Var. "Does your ship have any weapons that can stop that thing?"

Images of giant lasers, phasers, tractor beams, and force fields from every sci-fi movie he had ever seen danced through Clark's head until he saw Var slowly shake his head.

"No, Clark. My ship is just a converted old passenger liner that I bought cheap when it was on its way to be scrapped. I never expected to be running into a combat situation." Var shook his head again. And this wouldn't even by its first combat situation, if he counted his run-in with the Kryptonian Security Forces.

As they stood there and watched, the Nazis' flying dreadnought quickly cleared the hanger and accelerated briskly off to the north as it climbed to altitude.

"Come on, Clark. We need to hurry, if we are going to catch it."

As he spoke, Clark sensed that Var intended to just fly off after the mighty ship.

"Var wait. We can't just fly off and leave the others. Besides one of the people up on that battleship is Hank's wife. And Lana is a good friend of mine and Whitney's. They deserve to come with us. Plus they can be a help if we have to mount a rescue mission to the Hitler."

Var remembered the braids he had seen around the waists of the other two men. They might be useful in helping the girls on the Hitler while he and Clark tried to deal with this flying juggernaut.

"Okay, Clark. Get the hanger doors open while I prep the ship."

Clark nodded and in a blur the two men raced off in opposite directions.

End of Chapter 16

Author's Notes:

I hope you enjoyed this extra long chapter. The Lana/Laura section was of sufficient length in my mind to be a full chapter. But after the previous chapter had already been off the main storyline, two in a row felt like too much. (Of course, in my mind they were both necessary to introduce some key plot points.) So this time you got two chapters worth for the price of one – Oh wait, these are all free, I will just continue to think of them as priceless rather than free.

I have heard from several sources that for whatever reason, ff dot net is clamping down on writers including individual feedback to reviewers' comments within the chapter notes. It doesn't make sense to me; readers have made a number of suggestions which I have incorporated into the plot which I think have improved the story and I like to be able to say thanks. But it is their site and they can impose whatever rules they see fit. If you haven't gone to my author's page lately, I have added a link to a homepage where I have been posting a 'chapter in progress' for those who would like to experience my creative process or who don't care to wait for the long time it takes me to generate a complete chapter. Anyway, I am adding something to that page where I can give readers feedback to comments or questions posted in their reviews until the dust clears as far as intentions in this area.

Well, I think that is all for now. Stay tuned for the next chapter, I think it is going to be THE big action sequence of this story.

Thanks again for all of the positive comments,

Duane


	17. Biological Families Chapter 17

Updated on 10/15/05

Biological Families – Chapter 17

"Three meters on the port side," called out radioman Siegfried Beyer, who was in contact with the ground crew in the hangar.

"Steady as she goes," directed Chief Pilot Horst Treusch von Buttlar-Brandenfels to the helmsman.

Slowly, majestically, the mighty flying dreadnought, _Deutschland_, eased clear of its hangar on its maiden flight – a flight which was departing unexpectedly seven hours early. The inaugural flight had been scheduled for noon, when the _Deutschland _was supposed to fly out and meet the battleship, _Hitler_, for the public announcement of the existence of the new Nazi superweapons.

Now, after a strange radio message had been received from the Hitler, their early departure had been commanded so they could investigate.

Buttlar-Brandenfels hadn't been briefed on the details of the radio message and at the moment he didn't really care. Whether it was now or in seven hours; all that mattered was the ship was finally taking to the skies after two years of hard work and he was piloting it.

Of course, it would have been even better if he was in command of this magnificent machine rather than merely the pilot, but since he had mustered out of the military after the end of the Great War, even this was more than what he should have expected.

Buttlar-Brandenfels had been the commander of L6, the first of the giant Zeppelin airships to bomb London during the war. Employed in the branch of the German Naval Service with the highest mortality rate, exceeding even that of the infamous U-boats, he was one of the few airship captains to survive the war. Unfortunately, like all of the others branches of the Germany military, the airship service had been wiped out by the terms of the Versailles Treaty. No military airships were permitted in Germany after the war. Period.

And flying the mighty airships was all Buttlar-Brandenfels had lived for ever since he had seen the very first flight of Count Ferdinand von Zeppelin's ground-breaking airship, LZ-1, on July 2, 1900. He had been eleven years old and his family had been on summer holidays at Lake Constance on the German-Swiss border. For a week the talk around the town of Manzell had been about nothing but the Count and his prototype rigid dirigible. Unexpectedly, the ship had been assembled in a floating hangar several hundred meters from shore on this small, out of the way lake. The water-borne hanger had been chosen because it was free to pivot with the wind to minimize the risk of damaging the one hundred fifty meter airship as it was extracted from the structure. But even with the advantages of the floating hanger, the launch of the Zeppelin had been delayed for several days waiting for perfect weather conditions for the first attempt.

Buttlar-Brandenfels had been big for his age, but still he had been only eleven. He had tried to get a place among the hundreds of local men who served as ground crew during the launch and recovery processes. But ultimately he had been forced to watch from shore when late in the afternoon the white airship with its two suspended aluminum gondola finally was towed out of the hanger by a small tugboat.

Unfortunately, it would be an ungainly flight from the very start. The crew holding the restraining lines at the forward end had released their cables several seconds before the crew at the aft end. The great ship had climbed into the air nose first and then barely leveled off at five hundred meters before plunging nose first back towards the lake. In all, that first flight barely lasted eighteen minutes, but Buttlar-Brandenfels was hooked for life.

He didn't encounter the Zeppelins again until 1912 when he joined DELAG, the Count's airship airline service, as a member of the flight crew on the Schwaben, the tenth Zeppelin to be built. Even though this, his first ship was lost in a ground fire one year later, Buttlar-Brandenfels rapidly rose through the ranks of the company until the outbreak of the war in 1914. Quickly, the German government militarized all of the existing airships and all future production. If he was to continue to fly, it would have to be in the service of the Fatherland. With his experience, Buttlar-Brandenfels had quickly been made an officer and given command of L6, one of the first Zeppelins specifically built for the war effort.

As with many other fields of science and technology, the war brought rapid advancements to the state of the art for airships. To fulfill their role as strategic bombers, the airships quickly increased in range until forty-eight hour missions were not unusual. And for the explosive, hydrogen-filled airships to survive against enemy aircraft and anti-aircraft guns, their service ceiling was quickly increased from three kilometers to over six.

And as would be frequently said by their counterparts in the Second World War, the airship proponents claimed with heartfelt enthusiasm that their strategic bombing campaign would be sufficient to defeat the British at home. Of course, looking back, Buttlar-Brandenfels realized the limited number of airships and their meager two thousand kilogram bomb loads never stood a chance. However, if they ever went to war again, things would certainly be different once the Germans had a fleet of ships like the Deutschland. Her six fourteen inch guns were obviously impressive, but the truly devastating portion of her armament was her bomb load capacity. Thanks to the anti-gravity drive they had reverse engineered from the alien's ship, the Deutschland could carry a truly staggering six hundred thousand kilogram bomb load, three hundred times more than the old Zeppelins. And with a 70 centimeter thick steel hull rather than the paper thin fabric hulls of the Zeppelins, the Deutschland and its future sister ships would be utterly invulnerable to attacks by aircraft or ground fire.

All of these thoughts ran through Buttlar-Brandenfels' head as the ship eased carefully out of its hanger. Not that hitting the hanger could possible hurt this ship, but it would certainly reflect poorly on his piloting skills.

Once clear of the building he ordered up one quarter power. The ship surged forward so fast and hard, six men on the bridge were thrown to the deck and everyone else grabbed for the nearest handhold. Quickly, a slightly shaken Buttlar-Brandenfels ordered engine control to throttle back to a more reasonable fifty kilometers per hour until they were well clear of the base. They had never tested the drive before and had had no idea of the ship's limits or capabilities. What would have happened if he had commanded full power, he wondered. Would they have been thrown about so violently they wouldn't have survived?

Since his arrival eighteen months ago, he had been on the alien's ship on numerous occasions, ostensibly as one of the many work parties, but actually to study the ship's control mechanisms. They had been able to duplicate the mechanical systems required to build a functional anti-gravity drive, but the control electronics used materials and scientific principles they couldn't comprehend or begin to duplicate. The alien, Var El, had demonstrated the controls for his ship and what Buttlar-Brandenfels wouldn't have given to be able to control everything from a single seat. Or to have the wondrous display that could fill the entire interior of the ship's dome with a realistic view as though the entire ship was transparent.

But they hadn't yet been able to figure out how to achieve any of those features and had been forced to fall back on a control solution more akin to an airship or a u-boat. One man controlled the vertical motion of the ship, a second the lateral motion of the ship, and a third the speed of the ship. And for their exterior view they had numerous spotters at view ports with thirty centimeter thick laminated glass in addition to several periscopes taken straight from the submarine yards.

One small feature the alien's command chair had, which he had noticed but which had never registered, had been a series of wide straps. But after experiencing what this ship could do at one quarter power, seats with restraining belts for the entire crew was going to be high on his list of recommendations after this first shakedown cruise. He couldn't help but wonder how many more recommendations would be on the list before this day was over.

"Helm, bring us around on a course three points west of north. Altitude control, take us up to two thousand meters."

As the two sailors, who had started their careers in the submarine service, echoed back his orders in the time honor way, Buttlar-Brandenfels headed over to the plot-table. With limited external visibility and the ship's high potential speed, maintaining an accurate estimate of their location was going to be vital. Six men were already hard at work with compasses, protractors, and slide rules, but he was certain they were going to have to find a better long term solution.

Glancing down, he saw if they maintained this heading, they should pass within a few kilometers of the position of the Hitler reported in the message. He was certain the ship could have them there within a very few minutes, but that would mean bringing inside all of the spotters scattered in cupolas around the exterior of the hull. He didn't really want to pull them back yet, as they might catch an early glimpse of problems with this first flight that weren't immediately obvious on the internal instrumentation. Besides, at this pace they should arrive at the location of the Hitler just after first light which should make finding the battleship easier and hopefully help them spot if there was really a problem with it or if the message had been some kind of a hoax.

As Buttlar-Brandenfels stood there staring at the plot table lost in thought, Admiral Victor Falle and his tactical assistants strode up.

"Not the smoothest launch I have ever experienced, Horst," rumbled Falle with a deep resonant voice.

Buttlar-Brandenfels glanced over at the admiral in charge of this flight, as he gave a small shrug of his shoulders. "Sorry about that, sir, but everything about this ship is new and experimental. I would like to proceed with the initial phase of the alpha test sequence during the trip up to the Hitler's position."

The alpha test sequence was a planned series of maneuvers to determine the handling qualities of the ship. It was the proper 'baby-steps' thing to do to start the learning process with this truly unique vehicle.

"Sorry, Horst, I know it is the logical thing to do, but we are going to have to forgo alpha at this time and proceed directly to the beta series."

Buttlar-Brandenfels could feel himself blanch. The beta testing involved the weapons systems and hadn't been scheduled until the second week of flight testing. What had the message he hadn't seen said? What kind of trouble were they about to run into? The hull of the Deutschland should be impervious to all but the most powerful battleship main guns – guns like the Hitler mounted.

"Beta, sir?" he repeated numbly.

"Yes, as soon as we are well clear of the coast, we shall begin with the main guns."

"Sir, what is going? I need to have some idea, so I can plan our approach."

Falle nodded. "The message was very brief and sketchy. All it said, beyond giving their current location, was that the ship had been taken over by hostile forces and requested help."

Buttlar-Brandenfels couldn't understand how the message could be true. "Sir, there are over a thousand men on the Hitler. How could someone take over the ship?"

"I have no idea how it would be possible, but we are going to proceed as though it is true until we have first-hand proof it is not." Admiral Falle paused and took in Buttlar-Brandenfels' sudden pallor. "Horst, I would think you would be looking forward to a little excitement. It would certainly help the sales of your next book."

Buttlar-Brandenfels' literary career had been the butt of countless jokes since he had returned to the service to work on this project. After the war had ended, he had rejoined the late Count's Zeppelin Aircraft Company. Ultimately, he had ended up as the Zeppelin company representative in the United States for a joint venture company formed by Zeppelin and Goodyear. During the Twenties, dirigibles had enjoyed a popularity in the States similar to what they had seen in Germany before the war. After meeting an agent for the Harcourt Publishing Company at a party in New York, he had agreed to write an account of his experiences as the captain of a Zeppelin during the war. By the time 'Zeppelins over England' had been published in 1932, he had returned to Germany to serve as first officer on the now famous Graf Zeppelin.

"Admiral, I think there will be plenty of excitement from the numerous untested systems on this craft without taking it into combat on its first flight."

Falle nodded his agreement and Buttlar-Brandenfels could read from the expression on his face that the time for small-talk and humor was over.

Turning back to the plot-table Buttlar-Brandenfels decided they should arc around to east to give them more time over open water as they approached the Hitler's reported position. He called out to the helmsman for a course change fifteen degrees to starboard before he had the communication officer order all of the lookouts on the outer hull to don their ear protection.

After three more minutes of steady, effortless cruising, Buttlar-Brandenfels advised the Admiral they were in the clear for live weapons fire.

The admiral nodded and then headed over to the gunnery station. A few seconds later warning klaxon sounded and the PA system blared out – **"Prepare for artillery practice. This is no drill."**

As Buttlar-Brandenfels waited for the gun fire to begin, he noticed how quiet the ship was. Other than the faint murmur of voices of the other men on the bridge, he couldn't hear anything. No wind noise penetrated the thick steel hull. No engine noises came from the silent anti-gravity drive. If not for a slight vibration felt through his feet from the deck, he could have believed the ship was still parked in the hangar.

He glanced over to the gunnery station just as the gunnery officer hit the firing stud for the pair of large guns located in the upper turret. A short, sharp jolt was felt in the bridge, but otherwise the craft remained rock-steady. Buttlar-Brandenfels had been onboard a battleship during gunnery practice back during the war and he could still remember how far the ship had rolled in recoil. It was obvious this ship would make an excellent gun platform.

However he strolled over just in time to hear the gunnery officer swear in response to the report from the spotter coordinator.

"Admiral, let's go ahead and fire the lower guns. Then we'll give the upper guns another try," said Lt. Wilfred Schmidt.

After the admiral nodded, the gunnery officer turned back to his control panel.

"Anything I need to know?" Buttlar-Brandenfels asked Falle in a low voice to avoid interrupting the activity.

"We were afraid of this. The mathematicians spent years developing the gunnery tables all naval ships use to adjust their aim for distance and wind conditions. However these tables are all designed for ship-to-ship battle where both ships are at sea level. We have had a small group working on new tables specifically for this craft, but they are not done yet. In the short term, if we need to participate in a long range gun battle, we will need to drop down to sea level and slow to below thirty knots."

"That would seem to nullify most of the advantages of the Deutschland," stated Buttlar-Brandenfels.

Falle shrugged. "We didn't expect to be taking the Deutschland into battle this soon, and certainly not against a ship like the Hitler. Against a lesser ship I would just move in close and use the lower guns at point-blank range. But the Hitler's big guns might damage us at that range."

Another shudder ran through the ship as the big lower guns on the port side fired.

"I hope it doesn't come to a gun battle with the Hitler," said Buttlar-Brandenfels. "It would be a shame for the two newest, greatest weapons of the fatherland to do battle against each other."

"I agree," responded Falle. Then he got a harder look in his eyes and he continued in a tone of someone who had had to make hard decisions before. "But if it comes to it, we must do our duty."

Buttlar-Brandenfels nodded. With a sign of dismissal from Falle, he moved back over to the plot table.

- + - +

The main upper battery fired two more salvoes and the lower port and starboard pairs each fired one before Buttlar-Brandenfels decided their range was getting close enough to the potential position of the Hitler to warn Admiral Falle.

The admiral and his two assistants had retreated to a small work table located near the gunnery station. One of the assistants was seated and busily taking notes as the admiral dictated. When the admiral paused, Buttlar-Brandenfels said a quiet 'sir' to get his attention. When the admiral looked up, Buttlar-Brandenfels continued, "Sir, we will be coming over the horizon on the Hitler's estimated position in roughly five minutes. If we don't want to send the wrong signals, we should cease firing now."

The admiral nodded and relayed the order to the gunnery officer with the additional instructions to give the crews a five minute break, but then they would be going to full battle stations.

With these instructions acknowledged, the admiral turned back to Buttlar-Brandenfels. "Horst, let's move up to the flying bridge, I would like to have a first hand look at the Hitler before deciding how to proceed."

Buttlar-Brandenfels nodded and passed the word to the rest of the bridge crew. Several crew members scurried off ahead to ensure the phones would be ready to relay any necessary instructions back down to the bridge.

Once things were in motion, Buttlar-Brandenfels gestured for the admiral to precede him to the side of the bridge where the stairs were located. As they started climbing the three flights of stairs from the bridge, located in its secure location deep within the hull of the ship, to the flying bridge located just in front of and below the main upper gun turret, he couldn't help but smile at how for once the term 'flying bridge' really did apply.

The flying bridge was a light-weight structure; well light-weight by the Deutschland's standard with only five centimeter thick steel walls supporting large three centimeter thick glass windows. It would not survive a direct hit by shells from any halfway serious guns, but it did offer a panoramic one hundred eighty degree view forward with protection from the elements during normal, non-combat operations.

The flying bridge was forty feet wide by ten feet deep although this was somewhat deceiving as it wrapped partially around the circular base of the giant gun turret. As the admiral and the pilot stepped out onto the flying bridge, a crewman quickly handed each of them a powerful set of binoculars.

Buttlar-Brandenfels stepped up to the railing in front of the large glass window and before him stretched the upper surface of the extended saucer section. Looking out across it, he still couldn't understand who authorized the incredibly gaudy bright red paint scheme. Oh, it made the large black and white swastikas stand out, but also made the ship look like an oversized child's toy. And this ship was certainly not a toy by any possible definition.

But like so many other aspects of this project, the paint scheme was not under his control. Forcing his attention back to the situation at hand, he gestured to a point on the horizon about fifteen degrees starboard of the point of their brow.

"Sir, if she had continued to run at flank speed towards Peenemunde from her last reported position, the Hitler should be coming over the horizon in that direction in the next couple of minutes. From their perspective we will be coming at them from a position just a little south of where the sun will clear the horizon. This approach angle should allow us to see them before they see us. On the other hand, if they turned north from their last indicated position, this course should bring us up on their tail in just a few extra minutes."

The admiral nodded and raised his binoculars, thereby joining the other twenty lookouts busily scanning the horizon from their spots on the flying bridge and other protected locations on the exterior of the massive ship.

It was less than three minutes before one of the enlisted men, positioned a little further down the flying bridge from the admiral and his party, shouted that he had spotted a silhouette on the horizon. Buttlar-Brandenfels and Admiral Falle quickly lowered their glasses long enough to see the man was pointing to a spot only a few degrees from Buttlar-Brandenfels' original estimate.

Buttlar-Brandenfels raised his glasses and looked in the indicated direction. It only took a moment to find the silhouette the man had reported. Although at their brisk pace in the few intervening seconds the silhouette had expanded sufficiently to make out it was definitely a naval vessel; no passenger liner or cargo ship had that distinctive profile.

"It looks like the Hitler, sir," he remarked to the Admiral.

"I agree. Time for battle stations, I think," Falle responded.

As the sound of the klaxon could be heard from the open stairwell, the admiral turned to the nearby communications officer. "Have the following message flashed to them:_ To DKM Hitler from DKM Deutschland – Heave to and prepare to receive boarding party_."

Boarding Party? Wondered Buttlar-Brandenfels. Did the admiral really intend to take the Deutschland into point blank range?

As the warrant officer manning the giant light began sending the Morse Code, Buttlar-Brandenfels joined the others in raising his binoculars and monitoring the Hitler for any response.

They watched for over two minutes without seeing any acknowledging flash message or any reduction in the great battleship's speed. There had been plenty of time for their message to have been forwarded to the bridge and any response composed and sent. The range had closed to barely ten kilometers and Buttlar-Brandenfels felt it was time to get some new directions from the admiral.

"Any new orders, sir?"

Falle lowered his own glasses. "They don't seem to be responding. Horst, can you swing us around so that we are approaching from the stern and get us close enough to drop a couple of squadrons onto their aft deck?"

Buttlar-Brandenfels contemplated the admiral's request for a moment wishing they had had time for more maneuvering practice. "I believe so, sir. But does that seem wise? I mean getting in that close to their guns?"

"I don't see where we have any choice. We have to find out what is going on over there. And I would prefer to risk trying to board her than simply standing back and blowing her out of the water. For all we know the crew could have been incapacitated and a dead man is at the controls. If possible, I want to recover the ship intact."

Buttlar-Brandenfels couldn't do anything but nod his acceptance; this was the admiral's responsibility and not his.

It took Buttlar-Brandenfels ten minutes to swing the flying craft around and into position. During that time the Hitler made no overt response but continued to steam steadily towards the south. However the Deutschland had been bustling with activity as the thirty-six Kriegsmarines stationed on board were getting into position on the lowest level and the admiral was hurriedly briefing their commander.

The Hitler was maintaining a steady twenty knots as Buttlar-Brandenfels brought his ship up from the stern. He had docked the Graf Zeppelin and several other airships to ships at sea before, but this seemed very different. First of all, those ships had generally been at anchor, not a moving target like this. Second, he had had hundreds of hours at the controls of those other ships, but on this one it had been barely thirty minutes and both he and the crew were still feeling out the controls. Third, the shape of this ship was so different; it was throwing off his spatial judgment. All of his previous airships were shaped a lot like their target, the Hitler – roughly three hundred meters long and thirty meters wide. This flying dreadnought, modeled on the alien's vessel, was only about one hundred twenty meters long, but equally as wide. And finally, it was becoming obvious they were going to have to retrofit a second flying bridge on the lower side of the main saucer for maneuvers like this.

But maybe the biggest difference, he would have to admit, was that never before had he brought an airship into such close proximity to someone who might shoot at him. No, during his service in the war he had always strived to stay as far as possible from the enemy; preferably about six kilometers above them. Now he was within one hundred meters and would have to close that distance to less than twelve meters if the kriegsmarines were going to be able to repel down to the battleship.

He had relocated back to the main bridge, but could still remember the way the massive guns of the upper turret had extended out above the flying bridge and knew equally powerful guns were now pointing at his ship from below. What kind of damage would they do to this ship if they were fired at a range of fifteen meters? He had never seen a ship with a thicker hull than this flying dreadnought, but still it was only about seventy centimeters of steel and the shells of the big guns massed almost a thousand kilograms. And the exit velocity of these shells was very high to provide a normal range of almost thirty-six kilometers.

Come on, Horst, he thought to himself, get your mind off the danger you can't control and focus on the task at hand. He was standing by the plot-table, but for this close-in maneuvering, it wasn't of any use. Finally, he closed his eyes and focused on a mental picture of what was going on based on his years of experience on airships and the information he was receiving from the three spotters who were in positions to see and describe the two ships' relative motion.

"Ten meters forward and three meters to port," relayed the communications officer who was on the phone with the assistant pilot currently standing in the open doorway on the lowest level through which the Kriegsmarines were about to depart.

Buttlar-Brandenfels directed the men manning the controls to increase the crafts forward speed by one knot and to turn to port by one degree. After five seconds he was about to lower the speed back by one knot to not overshoot their target when a jolt and a grinding sound ran through the ship although it was more felt than heard.

"Sir, the lower surface of the saucer section just struck one of the Hitler's main aft guns," stated the communications officer quickly.

"Are we close enough for the marines to get across?" asked Buttlar-Brandenfels.

The communications officer listened briefly and then nodded. "They are going down now. They should all be across in fifteen seconds."

Buttlar-Brandenfels glanced at the large clock mounted on the forward bulkhead. As soon as they were across, he intended to open some distance between the two ships. He hated this feeling of being a sitting duck.

"They are away, sir," reported the communications officer exactly seventeen seconds later.

"Altitude control, get us up to two thousand meters. Engine controls, reduce our forward speed to zero for thirty seconds and then increase it back to twenty three knots," directed Buttlar-Brandenfels. He would need to back away a little first to clear the Hitler's superstructure, but then he wanted to get the Deutschland positioned directly above the Hitler. Directly above was the one position the Hitler's big guns couldn't reach. Oh, some of its smaller anti-aircraft weapons could point straight up, but none of them were likely to do any significant damage. They were designed to battle thin-skinned aircraft, not a flying dreadnought like this.

However, his plan did not come to fruition. The Deutschland had backed away barely fifty meters when all four of the Hitler's aft facing 380mm main guns fired at once.

It felt as though the deck of the bridge jumped a meter straight up in a single instant. All the men lost their footing and were thrown to the deck, but none of them saw the deck coming up to meet them as a fraction of a second after the initial shock, all of the lights on the bridge went dead.

- + - + - + - + - + - + - + - +

Marion stood on the bridge of the Hitler near Captain Koenig. The glazed look on the faces of the Captain and the other men on the bridge frightened her. She felt she should be getting used to it, as over the past eighteen hours more and more of the crew had succumb to Laura's unholy power. But instead of getting easier, it was getting steadily harder to handle.

Marion glanced over to where Laura stood in Lana's body on the far side of the bridge. She was dressed like the lowliest sailor on this mighty ship, yet looked and acted like the high priestess of some long forgotten pagan religion. In her right hand she grasped the same knife taken from the tray of food when all of this had started, but if it had been swapped for a jewel encrusted ceremonial dagger, it wouldn't have seemed out of place. And as Marion watched, her loyal vassals dragged forth the next sacrificial victim. Oh, she wasn't actually cutting out their hearts, but as the day had progressed she had been cutting each one a little deeper than the previous and more than was absolutely necessary.

Had it really been less than three days since her first encounter with Laura in that dream-like Jaguar City? And yet even then Marion had seen the first hints of Laura's underlying personality. If there was even someone called Laura and she wasn't just some strange fragment of Lana's own personality.

But ultimately it didn't matter whether it was Laura or Lana, either way the girl definitely had power. She didn't have proof Laura had actually brought Whitney back from the dead, but based on the things she had seen since then, she didn't doubt it. And she didn't doubt that one or the other of the girls had lived almost forever. Nor that she had been an absolute monarch on more than one occasion, back when 'absolute monarch' actual meant 'ABSOLUTE MONARCH'.

In less than thirty seconds this latest conquest was over and the sailor went from an expression of abject terror to one of extreme adoration. And it had been going on like this hour after hour through almost the entire night. At least a third of the crew and almost all of the officers must have been through 'the ceremony' as Marion had come to think of it. At least she assumed most of the officers had been through it as none had been brought forward in the past couple of hours and Laura was currently focusing on the petty officers.

However there was one officer who hadn't been through the line, Major Biberach. And neither had his two superhumanly strong henchmen.

Just then an ensign came staggering onto the bridge and collapsed at Laura's feet. The man was a mess: forearm bones stuck out through a wide bloody gash in his right sleeve, his face was covered in so many bruises both eyes were almost swollen shut and blood streamed freely from his nose, and his good arm was wrapped tightly about his chest as though to protect broken ribs or even worse internal damage.

Marion watched as Laura knelt down and rested a hand on the man's forehead while calling for one of the nearby men to pull on the man's broken arm to get the bones back into place. For perhaps fifteen seconds Laura maintain physical contact with the man and then rose back to her feet.

"Major Biberach and his men have barricaded themselves in the radio room. Captain Koenig, I need a couple of squads of men down there to help me rout them out. And I want the power to the damn radio transmitter off right now. We don't need the Major sending any stupid messages."

As the Captain quickly started issuing orders, Marion couldn't take her attention from the man who had stumbled in to deliver the warning. Only seconds after Laura had stood up, the man had followed suit. And except for a coating of drying blood, he looked as good as new. No matter how many times in the past day she had seen Laura cut someone and then watch their wound heal before her eyes, she couldn't get over it. It was like magic. 'Dark magic', murmured the small voice in the back of her head.

"Ma'am," began the recently healed ensign with a bowed head. "I am sorry I failed to apprehend the Major and his men. Please allow me to make amends by leading the squads you are sending."

Marion looked at the man in almost disbelief. He had obviously gone up against the Major's two superhumanly strong men and lost. He had been lucky to get away with his life and now he was begging for a second chance. For a moment Marion flashed back to her conversations in Egypt with Belloq and later on the Greek isle. He had had all of those grand dreams of what he would do with the power of the Ark of the Covenant. Yet those dreams now seemed almost childish next to what Laura could do. With her abilities to twist any man's mind to do her bidding and her gift to instantly heal any wound, she was almost like a god or at least an angel. 'Dark angel', murmured the voice in her head again.

Laura nodded to the ensign and turned to the door. She only took three steps before pausing. Looking back to the captain, she said. "Captain Koenig, please have all of the main batteries fire off a practice salvo as soon as possible. Then have them reload and standby to fire again on my command."

He nodded his intention to follow her instructions and then stated, "We are close enough to a couple of islands that someone is going to see and hear the shots, ma'am."

"It can't be helped and it will be dawn shortly, so doubtlessly we would be spotted soon anyway. At this point the most important thing is that we are ready for trouble," answered Laura.

Then Laura turned her attention to Marion and Marion had to steel herself from flinching back as the power glittered in the girl's dark eyes. This was most definitely not the same girl who had cried on her shoulder in the small cell in that nameless village two nights before.

"Marion, please accompany me."

Marion nodded and forced herself to step forward. She had no idea what Laura would do if she refused, but this was not the time to find out. When things had started back in the cabin, she might have been allowed to refuse a request. But as the hours passed, Laura was becoming more and more intoxicated with her power. She was very much afraid if she disagreed with Laura now, the girl would merely touch her and do to her mind whatever she had been doing to the crew. And whatever she was doing was very scary. Would the minds of any of these men ever be the same again?

Laura led the way off the bridge at a brisk pace. She went down ladders and through the labyrinth of walkways and corridors without ever pausing or hesitating. Marion knew the girl had never been to the radio room before because they had been inseparable since boarding this ship. Then it struck her that if Laura had been tapping directly into the minds of the crew as she was doing her little ceremony, she would know every detail of the ship. Hell, she would know it better than any other single individual on board.

When they reached the entrance to the radio room, they found a squad of men loyal to Laura already there. The eight sailors each had a carbine pointed at the heavy door and even the leader had his sidearm out. Not that these weapons were going to do any good against this door. Like all of the internal structure of the Hitler, the walls and door were constructed of four inch thick steel.

But then the door might not be the real target, but rather what lay on the other side. Because when Marion looked closer, four of these men were visibly wounded and several other more seriously wounded men were lying on the deck nearby.

Laura quickly touched all of the injured men and then she proceeded to touch the uninjured, too. Marion could tell when Laura touched one of the men without even watching her hands; the moment of contact was clearly visible in the men's eyes as they blazed even brighter, clearly in a religious fervor to do whatever Laura commanded.

Once the ultimate state of zeal had been restored in the men and one of them had been sent to the engineering levels to retrieve a couple of cutting torches, Laura calmly walked up to the radio room door. The door might be impervious to anything short of explosives or cutting torches, but it did have a small horizontal slot for communication during battles without risking the structural integrity provided by the closed and locked door. The slot was located just above Laura's eyelevel, but by standing on her toes she could just be seen and heard through the locked door.

"Major Biberach, this is Lana Lang. Remember me? What are you so afraid of that you need to hide behind this locked door? Why don't you come out so we can talk?" began Laura with an unexpected light tone to her voice.

Laura paused, obviously waiting for a response. During the silence, Marion could hear a loud mechanical whining sound that seemed to be coming from all around them. It took a moment for her to realize it was sound of the big, main gun turrets slowing rotating to a new position. This sound had barely ended when the Klaxon sounded and the officer of the day issued a warning about the upcoming discharge.

The final echo of the klaxon had barely died down when all eight main guns salvoed simultaneously. Even in this sheltered position well inside the superstructure of the great battleship, the noise was so overwhelming Marion couldn't help but raise her hands to her ears. But before the sound even ended, she was forced to abandon this protective posture as she needed both hands to brace herself against the wall as the ship heeled far over to starboard in reaction to the broadside to port.

Marion noticed how the squad of men had all been forced to lower their weapons to also brace themselves against the sudden, violent roll. Only Laura remained erected with only the slightest movement of her feet needed to hold her position. Marion wondered if the girl's balance was simply that superb or if she had been through similar situations many times before.

Laura began speaking to the door again once the rumble of the guns finally died away. "Hey, Biberach, remember how I warned you when we first came aboard this ship that my friends were extremely pissed at you and that this toy boat wouldn't survive against them any longer than the chateau? Well, I am sure they will get here eventually, but I got tired of waiting. So I decided to see how quickly I could single-handedly take this battleship you are so proud of. What do you think? One little girl against two thousand of the Fuhrer's finest sailors and in less than twenty four hours the ship is MINE."

Laura paused again; although whether she was seriously expecting a response or just giving the Major some time for her words to sink in, Marion couldn't decide.

After about a minute of silence, the man she had sent for the cutting torch returned with a work party from the lower levels. Laura gestured for them to wait before turning back to the locked door.

"What's your decision, Biberach? Are you coming out? Tell you what, if you come out now I will give your boys another shot at me. And if they can take me, I will give you back your precious ship. How about it, guys? Would you like another go? Hein, I am sure you would like the opportunity to get even with me for your lost eye."

Laura paused again to let her words sink in before continuing.

"Of course, I should warn you, last time I was holding back and this time I won't."

Laura paused yet again and began slowly tapping the fingernails of her right hand against the door. From the expression on the girl's face, Marion decided Laura really was hoping these men of Biberach's would take her up on her challenge. It seemed likely from her comments that she deliberately sought out situations to test her limits. As though taking over the ship wasn't enough; she had to be able to take out these super strong men, too.

But suddenly Marion realized these men wouldn't be a real challenge to Laura. No, they could be hurt while Laura could instantly heal from any injury. No matter how long it took, Laura could continue the fight until her opponents made some mistake.

Feeling she was starting to develop a little insight into Laura's psyche, Marion was about to address Laura when Laura started speaking again.

"Well, Hein, what do you say? Perhaps you have finally wised up enough to not try me again. And you know? I don't really want to fight either. Tell you what, if you are willing to change sides now, it is within my power to restore your eye. Yes, I can heal your injuries. If you don't believe me, just ask the men you hurt forcing your way into the radio room. They are all fully recovered from their wounds. All you have to do is open the door and let me touch you for a few seconds. And it wouldn't hurt a bit. In fact, I promise afterwards you will be happier than you have ever been in your life."

A man came running up from the direction of the bridge and both Laura and Marion turned to look at him. Marion recognized him as one of the many men she had witnessed go through the ceremony earlier. He had a look of fear about him that she had never seen before on anyone post-ceremony. Laura must have seen the same thing as she didn't pause to ask him why he was there, but quickly stepped over and touched his arm.

The contact didn't seem to last more than a fraction of a second before Lana turned back and began issuing orders.

"Ensign Speight take charge here. Get the men working on the door; I want it open when I return."

Marion once again was struck by how even the small things set Laura apart. She seemed to remember the names and details of every man over whom she had assumed control. But then if she remembered everything that had happened over the thousands of years of her life, what was learning a thousand new names in a single day?

When Laura turned to Marion, Marion was struck by the intensity of her stare. The girl's eyes seemed even darker than before and the hunger in her face had grown distinctly more intense.

"Marion," began Laura, as Marion expected her to once more request she follow her. "Please remain here."

Marion felt a genuine sense of relief when, without explaining what had changed, Laura took off alone at a run in the direction of the bridge.

- + - + - + - + - + - + - + - +

Christoph Frenkel sat hunched over the radioman's key ready to start tapping out the Major's message for the third time. He was still shaking from their experiences leading up to their retreat to this communications room. Until the fight with that young girl, Lana Lang, back at the chateau, nothing had ever shaken him since he had become one of the proud possessors of the Samson braids. But ever since encountering the girl, nothing seemed right or ordinary.

First off had been the girl's amazing fighting abilities. Never before had anyone beaten one of them in a combat situation since they had received their 'gift'. Yet the girl had taken Hein down in a matter of seconds and it hadn't been a single lucky blow. No, she had slowly taken him apart – piece by piece. And then she had turned her attention to him. If Biberach hadn't aborted that fight by threatening to kill the older woman, he didn't doubt the girl would have beaten him, too.

Then the morning after their departure from the chateau, they had received word it had been destroyed shortly after they had made their getaway. And just like with the girl, there had been something odd about its destruction. Oh, he could understand if the building had been destroyed by a fire or even an explosion, but how could the entire promontory on which it sat have been destroyed, too? He had been down to the lower levels of the dungeons and knew the whole cliff was solid rock; it would take tons of explosives to bring that all down. But how could anyone smuggle it all in without anyone noticing?

And that had not been the end of it; no it had only been the beginning. The weirdness had continued once they reached what they thought was the safety of this ship.

Frenkel shook his head to try and clear this train of thought. He needed to focus on his task, as he was the only one of their group who knew Morse Code and could operate the radios. Trying to focus, he once more looked down at Biberach's hastily scrawled message he had been transmitting on the special frequency used by the Tribunal:

'_This is Major Johann Biberach. STOP. I am on board the DKM Hitler at thirteen degrees fifty-three minutes east longitude, fifty-four degrees forty-two minutes north latitude. STOP. The ship has been taken over by two women who have managed to subvert the captain and most of the crew. STOP. Only I and a few loyal men are left and we are barricaded in the radio room. STOP. At all costs these women must be prevented from returning to the Fatherland, even if it requires the destruction of this ship. STOP. END OF MESSAGE.'_

He managed to repeat the message one more time before his thoughts drifted back to the events on the ship since their departure from Hamburg which had led to their presence in this room.

Everything had seemed to go so well at first. A group of Kriegsmarines had met them on the dock and had taken custody of the two women. Hein and he had been shown to guest quarters in officer country – nothing too fancy, but he had certainly stayed in a lot worse.

The first night had been quiet and uneventful, well, uneventful if you had good sea legs. Hein obviously did, as he snored steadily throughout, but then he was still recovering from his injuries. Unfortunately, Frenkel was not a good sailor and the small, enclosed cabin didn't help. He had eventually gone out to get some air in hopes of helping his roiling stomach.

From talking with members of the crew during his walk, he discovered the women were being kept only three doors down the corridor from his own quarters. He wasn't certain if this was coincidence or if Biberach had requested it. Not that he felt it mattered; if the girl wanted to cause trouble, he didn't think he could stop her with anything less than a gun. And if he gave any credence to what she had been saying back at the chateau, he wasn't certain even a gun would stop her. All he had hoped at the time was that their position way out at sea would prevent the girl from trying anything.

Things had remained quiet until the afternoon of their first full day at sea, was that really only eighteen hours ago? Then he had started to notice more traffic passing the open doorway of his cabin. He had stepped out into the corridor and leaned against the bulkhead which formed the opposite wall. From there he could see down to the door to the women's quarters. Two guards still stood sentry outside the door, but something about them seemed subtly different. After a few minutes, he realized they were standing rigidly erect like the parade guards at the Kaiser's old imperial palace he had visited before the war. Earlier, the guards had been much more casual, at most they would be in a 'parade rest' pose. Had some high ranking officer been down and chewed them out for not upholding the standard of the Fuhrer's Navy?

While he spent twenty minutes casually loitering in the hallway, he had witnessed five pairs of men enter the women's quarters. None of them ever stayed for more than two minutes and he couldn't figure out what they were doing. Even though he had never spent any time 'officially' in the military, he could from his academy days still recognize the various insignias adorning their uniforms. If anyone was going to be visiting the women, he would have expected it to be members of the security department or members of the Captain's staff. But the men he saw were from all over the ship: gunnery officers, engineering officers, even the head of the galley crew. And why would they go in there for less than two minutes at a time? They could hardly be interrogating the women in that time, or even be having sex.

He had just about decided to go discuss the odd pattern with Major Biberach when Hein had wandered back to their compartment with word of a card game starting up in the officer's lounge. He didn't see what harm the women could be doing, as they were still obviously in their cabin. So he decided to postpone talking to the Major until after the game. Perhaps he could even learn what was going on during the game; people always were more relaxed and ready to talk while playing cards, even without the benefit of alcohol which was not 'officially' available onboard ship.

As frequently happened with card games in the military, players would come and go as duty required, but the game went on. Frenkel remembered one epic game during his tour of duty in Spain that had gone on continuously for five days. This game hadn't lasted that long, but since he and Hein didn't have any assigned duties, they stayed at the table for a long time playing with a variety of different officers.

Ultimately, the game had just petered out in the strangest way. They were playing with three officers who had to go on duty at midnight. During their last hour a number of officers had wandered into the lounge to visit the coffee urn, but not a single one was interested in joining the game. Several had even made the comment that they had more important things to be doing with their free time. And strangely, they had all phrased it exactly the same way; as though they were giving the same rehearsed response.

He and Hein were returning to their quarters when he noticed the guards were no longer stationed outside the women's doorway. Hein hadn't seen what the issue was as they were on a ship at sea, where could they go that mattered? Hein had proceeded to bed, but Frenkel couldn't get the memory out of his head of the unusual assortment of officers who had visited the women's room earlier.

He decided he wouldn't be able to sleep until he had a better understanding of what was going on and went in search of some information. Within a few minutes, he found an officer who said the Captain had requested the women's presence on the bridge.

Why would the Captain want to see them on the bridge in the middle of the night? Why would the Captain even be on the bridge in the middle of the night? Usually, the captain was only on the bridge during the day unless something exceptional was going on like an impending battle.

The situation seemed so out of the ordinary, he decided to see if Major Biberach knew what was going on. He found the Major asleep in his quarters and when he explained, the Major quickly dressed and then the two of them headed for the bridge.

What they had found had been shocking. They had arrived via the starboard entrance to the bridge. The captain and the older woman, Mrs. Jones, had been standing on the far side of the bridge. They were both looking towards the spectacle going on in the center of the room as though it was the most natural thing in the world. The younger girl was standing there holding a blood-covered knife in her right hand while her left hand was firmly clasping the hand of a man kneeling before her. Both of their joined hands were oozing blood and Frenkel quickly noticed how a small pool of blood had collected around the girl's feet. But it wasn't the knife or the blood that had scared Frenkel the most. No, it was the expression on the kneeling man's face. He had this look of adoration that Frenkel had only seen a couple of times before and that had been during the earliest days of the Nazi moment when the future Fuhrer had given one of his motivational speeches to a small group of the faithful.

However Frenkel realized Biberach didn't see or at least understand the incongruity of the expression on the man's face, for Biberach let out a 'What the fuck is going on here?' exclamation before even stepping fully onto the bridge.

At the outburst the girl turned towards them and Frenkel got a good look at her face for the first time. And he had never seen such a look of malevolence and power before in his whole life, not even around Hitler or the members of the Tribunal. This didn't even look like the same girl they had fought back at the chateau.

"Grab them," the girl snarled in a tone that said she expected instant obedience. When she continued, Frenkel suddenly felt his impossibly strong knees go weak. "It is time they too kneel down before me."

The two large security men standing on either side of the kneeling officer instantly reached for their side arms. A small corner of Frenkel's brain noted the men had moments before been holding the kneeling man down like he had originally been resisting whatever the girl was doing. But now the man was quickly climbing to his feet in support of the security men.

With a quick glance around, Frenkel knew everyone on the bridge was somehow under the girl's spell. If not for the guns, he could probably take all of them in a fight – well, all of them but the girl. But his strength was not proof against bullets; it was time to retreat and regroup.

Biberach apparently didn't understand the true situation and was trying to countermand the girl's orders. Frenkel was forced to grab the Major and spin him out through the door.

Frenkel thought they were in the clear as he hustled the protesting Major down the corridor. But then a single shot was fired in their direction from the bridge. The bullet careened off a wall and caught Frenkel in the left shoulder. It spun him partway around, but otherwise wasn't serious, particularly since part of the gift of the Samson braid was the dulling of pain from wounds. At least something positive came of the shot - Biberach was finally convinced of the seriousness of the situation. As they raced down the corridor and around a corner, he was no longer dragging his feet about their hasty retreat.

They spent the next several hours dodging packs of pursuers. Fortunately, few of these men were armed with guns and against knifes, clubs, and fists Frenkel didn't have any problems. They eventually made their way to the corridor where Hein and he had been billeted. Hein had been sleeping, undisturbed by any of the girl's men, when they arrived. He came groggily awake when they entered the cabin, but came fully awake when he saw Frenkel's blood stained shirt and disarrayed clothing from the bullet wound and series of recent fights.

"What the hell happened to you?" asked Hein, as Frenkel sank into a chair by the desk.

Before Frenkel could answer, Biberach responded with more than a hint of hysteria in his voice. "That . . . that girl. Somehow she is in control of things up on the bridge and she has men trying to hunt us down. We have to stop her!"

Hein looked over at Frenkel who nodded.

Frenkel leaned over and pulled open the lower right hand desk drawer. Inside was the silver flask presented to him by Himmler, personally, on his return from Spain. He unscrewed the cap and took a quick swig. Then he passed it to the Major.

"Major have some, it will help calm your nerves."

The Major looked at the flask dubiously for a moment before nodding and taking a long pull.

"Now, Major, exactly how do you propose we stop the girl?" Frenkel asked.

"You're the strong ones. Just do your thing."

Frenkel sighed. "Major do I need to remind you that back at the chateau the girl beat Hein and probably would have beaten me if she hadn't stopped fighting? And that was all by herself. Now she seems to have hundreds of men on her side and some of them are armed with guns."

"How is she controlling them?" asked Hein.

Frenkel thought back to the scene he had witnessed on the bridge; it had to be the key. "I don't know for certain, but from what I saw I think it involves an exchange of blood between her and the others."

"So what do we do?" asked Hein as he moved over to the wardrobe and started getting dressed.

Frenkel looked over to the Major who was still holding the flask and appeared to be almost in a daze. "If we are going to stop her, we are going to have to find help."

Hein paused in buttoning his shirt. "Where are we going to find help in the middle of the fucking ocean? Do you think there are men in the below deck crews that will help us?"

Frenkel remembered the officers from all the different disciplines who had been visiting the women's quarters in the afternoon. Suddenly it was clear why they had been there; the girl was making sure her control reached into all areas of the ship before she made her first public move. "No, I wouldn't count on any help from the crew at this point. I think she has gotten to the key officers in every area of the ship."

Finally, Biberach spoke again. "I need to get a message to the Tribunal. They can get us the help we need to stop the girl."

"How is the Tribunal going to be able to help?" asked Hein as he pulled on his coat. "We are in the middle of the ocean, miles from anywhere, and the girl has control of the most powerful warship in the world."

Biberach thought back to his tour of duty at Peenemunde. "The tribunal has some other, even more secret weapons at its disposal. They may not be able to take the ship back from her, but they can at least stop this ship and prevent the girl from getting back into Germany."

Hein and Frenkel immediately understood what Biberach was implying.

"Surely the girl is not so dangerous we have to destroy the ship to stop her?" questioned Hein, not having seen Lana's true abilities and having no desire to give his life in the process.

Frenkel had seen what the girl could do and realized Biberach was right. If the girl could take control of most or all of this ship's crew in less than a day, she could just as easily take control of Hitler or the Tribunal or the senior military staff or all of them. He couldn't imagine the girl he had fought back at the chateau doing that, but the girl he had glimpsed up on the bridge certainly could.

Shaking his head, Frenkel concurred. "The major is right. The girl must be stopped, even if the price is the loss of this ship and its crew."

Hein looked from Biberach to Frenkel and then nodded. "Then we had best be on our way to the radio room."

They had proceeded directly to the radio room with only a small detour to the chart room to determine their position. Unfortunately, the crew in that compartment had also fallen to the girl's power. They had had to incapacitate the men, but with both Hein and Frenkel in action, it had been but the work of a moment. Fortunately, the ship's position had been clearly marked on the large map spread across the chart table.

They fought two more skirmishes between the chart room and the radio room and then had been forced to evict the two radiomen, too. While Hein secured the door such that no mere mortal man would be able to force it open and Biberach wrote out the message calling for help, Frenkel had retuned the radio to the Tribunal's secret frequency.

And that was more or less how things stood when twenty-five minutes later the girl showed up outside the radio room door: Hein was pacing by the door, Biberach was fiddling with his pen while staring blankly at the opposite wall, and Frenkel had sent the message at least twenty times. Although he hadn't received any response and after the fifteenth time he wasn't even picking up a carrier wave and guessed the radio had been disconnected from the antenna. But he didn't have anything better to do while they waited for something to happen, so he continued to sit and tap out the message.

The first they knew this brief interlude in the activity was over was when they heard the girl's voice through the small portal in the door.

"_Major Biberach, this is Lana Lang. Remember me? What are you so afraid of that you need to hide behind this locked door? Why don't you come out so we can talk?"_

The pleasant, soft voice Frenkel remembered from the chateau was back, but he couldn't get the tone she had used up on the bridge out of his mind. He was looking over towards the Major to see how he was going to respond when they all heard it; the main gun battery turrets were all being rotated. Then the klaxon blared and a warning of impeding gun fire was announced to the crew.

As the deafening roar rumbled through the ship, the three men looked at each other. What was the ship, no, the girl shooting at? Had a response to their request for help already arrived?

Once the noise of the guns had receded and the roll of the ship damped out, they heard from the girl again.

"_Hey, Biberach, remember how I warned you when we first came aboard this ship that my friends were extremely pissed at you and that this toy boat wouldn't survive against them any longer than the chateau? Well, I am sure they will get here eventually, but I got tired of waiting. So I decided to see how quickly I could single-handedly take this battleship you are so proud of. What do you think? One little girl against two thousand of the Fuhrer's finest sailors and in less than twenty four hours the ship is MINE."_

By the time she finished speaking Frenkel could hear some of the hardness creeping back into her voice. And they all knew she had control of the ship, but the way she was throwing it in their face was just so arrogant. It was as though she was playing some one-upmanship game with the Major. If he had two incredibly strong men under his control, well she would have two thousand normal men.

Frenkel looked over at Biberach. He could see a blood vessel pulsing in the man's temple. The girl obviously knew how to get under his skin.

However, as much as the girl was getting to him, Biberach remained silent. After a minute staring at each other, the men heard the girl call out again.

"_What's your decision, Biberach? Are you coming out? Tell you what, if you come out now I will give your boys another shot at me. And if they can take me, I will give you back your precious ship. How about it, guys? Would you like another go? Hein, I am sure you would like the opportunity to get even with me for your lost eye."_

Hein's hand reached for the door's mangled handle. Obviously, thought Frenkel, the girl knows how to push Hein's buttons, too.

Almost immediately the girl continued, _"Of course, I should warn you, last time I was holding back and this time I won't."_

Frenkel could hear a faint metallic screeching as Hein started to slowly twist the already deformed metal.

"No, Wolfgang," hissed Biberach. "The time is not yet right. We need to wait until help arrives. They may need us as a diversion."

Hein slowly removed his hand from the handle and then clenched and unclenched his fist several times. Finally, he moved away from the door and sat heavily in the last unoccupied chair.

As they sat, Frenkel tried to imagine what the girl meant when she said she had been holding back during their last encounter. Was it false bravado to get them to open the door? He hardly thought so, but what more could she be capable of? The skills she had already demonstrated seemed like perfection.

As the pause in her monologue drew on, Frenkel wondered if the girl would next turn her attention to him. He wasn't certain if he was relieved or disappointed that when the girl continued, she was still focused on Hein.

"_Well, Hein, what do you say? Perhaps you have finally wised up enough to not try me again. And you know? I don't really want to fight either. Tell you what, if you are willing to change sides now, it is within my power to restore your eye. Yes, I can heal your injuries. If you don't believe me, just ask the men you hurt forcing your way into the radio room. They are all fully recovered from their wounds. All you have to do is open the door and let me touch you for a few seconds. And it wouldn't hurt a bit. In fact, I promise afterwards you will be happier than you have ever been in your life."_

Hmm, she started with the stick and now she tries the carrot, thought Frenkel, as he watched Hein's hand involuntarily move to his empty socket. And just like with her 'holding back' comment, there was something about her which forced you to not dismiss out of hand what she said, even if you didn't wholeheartedly believe her. No, if anyone else had made that comment about repairing the injury to Hein's eye, Frenkel would have laughed in their face. But with this girl, there was always a chance she might be able to do what she claimed.

But how could she or anyone repair Hein's eye? wondered Frenkel. Bones can be set, cuts can be healed, but how did you repair an eye which was completely gone? He never heard of any medical procedure which could repair a gouged out eye, so how could she do it?

But Frenkel didn't think this particular carrot would work with Hein. No, this wound was in the 'badge of honor' category for Hein. The injury had been delivered in fair and open combat and he may have lost the fight, but he had survived the battle. Although admitting the fight he had lost had been against a slightly built, forty-five kilogram girl would relieve the incident of most of its value as a good story to tell when he was in his cups.

As Frenkel sat and watched Hein, he wondered if he would have the willpower to sit there and not at least check-out the girl's claim. Surely, it wouldn't be that hard to verify if some of their victims had been totally restored to good health. But then Frenkel remembered the expressions on the men's faces back on the bridge and in the skirmishes they had fought since then. He suddenly had no desire to come into physical contact with the girl and risk ending up like those men. He had known several of the crew members from before this trip and some of them had been as fanatically loyal to the Fuhrer and the fatherland as he was. So to see them undergo a 180 degree change in their loyalties was down right scary. He may not understand how she could repair injuries, but he knew he never wanted to risk his free will to find out.

They all sat there in silence, each in his own way mulling over the girl's words. They expected her to continue her taunts, but the silence stretched for minutes. Finally, the sound they heard was the hiss of a blow torch as it burned a white-hot hole through the thickness of the door. They watched in morbid fascination as the hole steadily grew in size before elongating towards the hinge in the upper left hand corner.

- + - + - + - + - + - +

The being in possession of Lana's body, raced back towards the bridge. As she ran, she searched her vast memories for anything similar to the image she had lifted from the messenger's mind. He had only seen it from a great distance and it was mostly just a silhouette back-lit by the rising sun, but still it should have been enough to match something she had seen or heard of before. It was impossible to determine exact size, speed, or distance from the man's imperfect memories, but whatever it was, it was definitely huge. And most definitely it had been flying. The only thing in this time period of the appropriate size was an airship. But even though the man hadn't watched it for more than fifteen seconds before the Captain had sent him to notify her, his memory contained sufficient data to convince her it was no airship.

She had known from the moment she had first set eyes on the Hitler that the death of this ship was preordained; she just didn't know the 'how'. Perhaps this craft, whatever it was, might be the instrument of that destruction. But scarily, that thought or the sudden urgency of getting herself to safety was not at the forefront of her thoughts. No, all she could think about was this new opportunity to subjugate another crew. And after them would be another crew or perhaps landfall and a teaming city to conquer. God, she had almost forgotten how incredible this feeling of almost unlimited power was. Had it really been thousands of years since she had last allowed herself this freedom? Why, oh, why had she waited so long?

Over the past twenty-four hours, she had used her gift to gain control of the minds of six hundred sixty three men of the Hitler. The more minds she fucked, the easier it became. And also the more the Laura/Chloe aspects of her personality were being submerged as Sliviuh, the once all powerful godlike ruler of ancient Atlantis, rose to the surface. Sliviuh had used her gifts ten thousand years earlier to control an empire spanning most of the European and Asian continents. For almost three centuries she had personally been responsible for one of the darkest periods of mankind. By this modern era, Atlantis was little more than a legend, but if the truth of those dark times were known, it would be clear that men like Hitler, Stalin, Attila, Caligula, Pol Pot, and Ivan the Terrible were but amateurs in the arts of death, torture, and genocide next to Sliviuh. But then none of them lived more than the normal three score and ten while Sliviuh's depravities grew decade after decade, century after century. Now at long last, she was almost free again!

And not only did she have almost complete control over this body, she also had access to all of her memories for the last ten thousand years as well. Oh, so many delicious new methods of torture had been devised since her days of power. She meant to try them all plus a few more she had dreamed up along the way. But all of that would have to wait until this crisis was passed and she was firmly in control. And the wait shouldn't be too long, for this modern era would never know what hit it. Yes, a single week would be sufficient to take control of Germany and two months, tops, to take control of the rest of the important leaders of the world. Then the real fun could begin.

But then after only a few seconds spent running simulations through her 'bot network, she realized things would work even better up in the twenty-first century. There everything was run by computers and wasn't she the most powerful computer hacker in existence? And there, too, she had control of the portal device. With that device she could instantly move to any spot she needed or wanted. If it would take several months here to gain control of the world leaders, what would it take up there? Days? Hours?

Yes, the simulations all agreed; with the resources available to her up in the future there was a 98 probability she could conquer the entire planet in seventy-two hours. For a moment she fantasized about whole nations bowing low and calling out her name in a combination of adoration and trepidation. Delicious!

For now she would have to maintain the façade that she was Laura or Lana, as the situation required. And it was suddenly important the timeline remained intact so nothing would disrupt her plans up in the future. Which meant ensuring the destruction of this ship was still a priority.

These thoughts only occupied Sliviuh's mind for a scant few seconds. For the remaining thirty seconds it took her to reach the bridge, she allowed her thoughts to wallow in some of the favorite tortures she had performed on her enemies during the early days of her rule in Atlantis. A small corner of her mind almost pitied the poor soul who had the misfortune of being her next victim. The god he was about to meet would be a truly horrific, vengeful God.

Sliviuh didn't pause to search the sky for the flying craft the messenger had seen, but went straight in search of the Captain. She found him on the left wing of the flying bridge, where he had a clear view aft. He was staring through a pair of binoculars at the craft which was rapidly approaching from the stern.

Sliviuh stepped out into the brilliant early morning light; the sun having risen while she had been below dealing with Biberach. She barely noticed the brisk twenty knot wind caused by the great ship's high speed southward journey. Nor did she bother wasting time interrogating the captain, but reached out and touched his hand to draw what information she needed directly from his mind.

During the several seconds it took to download the information from his mind, she turned her gaze on the mystery craft. With the help of her 'bot system to interpret what she seeing, she quickly started building a database about it.

The craft was typical of many UFOs reported in the later portion of the twentieth century. It was primarily saucer-shaped with a central spherical bulge. However its giant swastikas and bright red paint scheme certainly hinted at an earthly origin. So too did the men she spotted in protective cupolas in various locations scattered around the central hull. They most definitely weren't 'little green men' or even gray ones. But they definitely gave a reference point for the 'bot system to use in estimating the dimensions of the craft – the central sphere was ninety-four feet in diameter and the outer saucer was two hundred forty seven feet wide, three hundred thirty one feet long, and twenty three feet thick.

Next Sliviuh turned her attention to the craft's highly visible main armament – six large guns that looked exactly like the ones on the Hitler itself. These guns were arranged in three pairs with one set mounted on top of the upper half of the central sphere and the others on the underside of the saucer section just to the left and right of the sphere.

As she stared at the big guns, they struck her as such an anachronism. She knew from the almost limitless data stored in 'bot system that each of those gun turrets weighed one hundred twenty six tons. With the structure required to support those guns and even a minimal amount of armor plating the craft had to weigh at least eight thousand tons. And if she was designing that craft, she wouldn't skimp on the armor. No, she would use armor at least as thick as what the Hitler had, since battleships were its apparent prey. And factoring in that amount over a hull of the given dimensions gave a weight more in the range of fifty thousand tons than the minimal eight thousand ton range.

Which led back to the big anachronism, why mount ordinary naval guns on the craft? The only theoretical method she knew which could keep that craft aloft was an anti-gravity drive. But if whoever built it could make a working anti-gravity drive, it should be even easier to produce a gravity-beam projector. Or with a power source sufficient to run the anti-gravity drive, there should be plenty of surplus power for laser type weapons.

So why the naval guns? The only solution that occurred to her was that whoever built this craft had been able to reverse engineer it from an existing example, but didn't understand the underlying theory necessary to develop, what was to her, the obvious related weapon systems.

From its giant swastikas the builders of the craft must be the Germans. So where had they found an example to study? Since this technology wasn't in the history books any more than the Battleship Hitler, it seemed unlikely to be of earthly origin, which left only aliens.

Of course, that immediately brought to mind the only alien she knew: Clark. She had never seen Clark's ship or knew if it used some type of anti-gravity drive. And certainly the Nazis of the nineteen thirties wouldn't have access to Clark's ship. But aliens were hardly a dime a dozen. Since Clark was from the only alien civilization she was certain that existed, it greatly increased the odds the Nazis had access to another one from his civilization.

With Clark suddenly brought back to the front of her thoughts, she couldn't stop from dwelling on him for a moment. The pre-roman adventure Chloe was still a part of her, if momentarily subdued by the more dominant Sliviuh. She had Chloe's feelings for him deep in her core and didn't feel the honor-bound need to suppress them as Laura always did. When they returned to the future, she suddenly wished Clark would be at her side when she came to dominate the world. And it wasn't just Chloe's love for him. No, his powers would be an incredible asset. If she couldn't make him a willing participant, then she would need to find some way to bend him to her will like she did with everyone else. Hmm, how could she get her 'bots through his incredibly strong skin to colonize his body? It was worth committing a portion of her 'bot system to searching for a solution.

But Clark was not present at the moment and she could put off how to deal with him until later. For the moment she needed to focus on the rapidly approaching craft which was now less than five hundred feet astern of the Hitler.

From the captain's mind she read the message the craft, the Deutschland, had been flashing earlier in its approach. They had wanted the Hitler to stop and receive a boarding party. When she had imposed her will on the captain's mind, she hadn't left him with much freewill in command situations. For anything other than the most mundane shipboard routine, she had compelled him to seek instructions from her before taking any action. As a consequence, the captain had made no response to the Deutschland's order. Now, it was looking like the Deutschland was going to attempt to land a boarding party whether the Hitler halted or not.

To ensure the timeline was not disrupted and the future she needed would still be there, the Hitler still needed to die in the next few hours. If the Deutschland was to be the instrument of its destruction, she was going to have to provoke them to attack. And since the Deutschland was never whispered of in the history books either, it was going to have to be destroyed, too.

Or maybe not, she thought. The big, new portal device would be available shortly after they returned to the twenty-first century. Its massive fusion power source was designed to open a portal across many light-years of distance or back through millennia of time. Over a short sixty year range, it should be sufficient to open a large enough portal to fly the Deutschland through. The Deutschland would certainly make an impressive flagship for her new world empire, particularly after she replaced those ugly swastikas with her own lion's head crest.

The ideal solution would therefore have the Deutschland destroying the Hitler and then she could come back and snag the Deutschland itself moments later from some time in the future at her own convenience. So, she needed to shake the Deutschland up enough to get them into a fight with the Hitler. A shot across the bow didn't seem like it would be sufficient. So she was going to have to give them a direct hit. But it would have to be a carefully placed shot to not take them out with the very first volley.

She turned the problem over to the 'bot system and then simply watched and listened to it work. Of course, the 'bot system had been an integral part of her almost forever and her interaction went way beyond watching and listening. She watched as the 'bot system tested various assumptions for drive and weapon layouts, for weapons magazines and crew quarters placements. As each configuration was considered, the 'bot system overlaid them on the visual image of the actual craft still approaching from the stern. Sometimes the 'bot system quickly threw them out for some obvious deficiency. Sometimes Sliviuh would direct the layout to be abandoned based on some gut reaction. Sometimes a concept would be immediately thrown out and sometimes only after evolving through numerous simple variations. Finally, after eight thousand three hundred fourteen attempts and almost fifteen seconds, a configuration was identified as having a thirty eight percent probability of being correct. Since this was two orders of magnitude higher than any other configuration attempted, Sliviuh decided this was the best she could hope for with a basically alien ship.

This configuration placed the anti-gravity drive and its power system in the outer saucer section. That left the central sphere for weapon systems, ammo magazines, crew quarters, engineering areas, and command areas. If she was going to hit the Deutschland without completely disabling it, she would have to go for the central sphere and still avoid the magazines. Of course, the amount of damage a direct hit would cause was at this point a complete unknown, since she had no data on the thickness of its hull. It could be almost paper-thin, in which case the Hitler's shells would punch in one side and out the other. Or it could be significantly thicker than the Hitler's and the shells would harmlessly detonate on its exterior. Or, as would be the most likely case, the Deutschland's hull would fall somewhere between these two extremes. All she could do was use the 'bots best estimate and hope for the best. Anyway, at worst, her first shot would destroy the Deutschland. She would lose a potentially fun future toy and have to find another way to destroy the Hitler, but it would hardly derail her main plans for world domination

The 'bot system recommended a shot from the four main aft-facing guns at a distance of one hundred fifty feet as the optimum range to achieve her desired accuracy. The Deutschland was currently one hundred ninety feet away and would reach the optimum range in ten seconds. However, Sliviuh guessed after the Deutschland got close enough to drop her boarding party it would back away to a perceived more safe distance. So she would get a second chance as it backed away and if she waited until then, she could get her hands on some members of the boarding party for a little of her special brand of interrogation.

Sliviuh directed the captain to return to the main bridge with instructions to have the rear gunnery crews get ready to fire on her command and to get a large group of her loyal crew ready below decks to detain the boarding party. If the timing of her salvo went as she expected, most of the boarding party would still be on the aft deck and the concussion should temporarily immobilize them.

Then she stepped back into a more sheltered spot to watch the Deutschland's final approach. Any tidbit of information she obtained by observation at this point might greatly help the 'bots simulation of the flying craft.

The Deutschland continued its steady approach. At a distance of fifty feet, two large doors opened near the bottom of the central sphere. A large tangle of ropes were immediately lowered and the black clothed commandos quickly began to repel down. Her 'bot system maintained a running head count and by the time the ropes were being withdrawn, thirty six men were on the aft deck.

Much quicker than it approached, the Deutschland began to back away. However her 'bots system only needed a couple of seconds of data to accurately estimate its velocity, acceleration, and direction. She knew the optimum firing spot would be reached in exactly nine seconds as she raced back into the bridge and grabbed up the phone to the gunnery office located two decks below.

Lieutenant Klaus Tauber answered the phone on the very first ring.

"Lieutenant, get ready to fire the four aft guns in exactly five seconds," commanded the imperious woman's voice.

The lieutenant almost dropped the phone in his excitement as he reached over to the two large red buttons which would fire both main aft batteries. The honor of having HER speaking directly to him was almost more than he could bear.

"Three. Two. One. FIRE!" Commanded Sliviuh and Tauber obediently rammed home the firing buttons.

All four guns belched fire and projectiles as one. However these guns were designed to hit targets from a maximum range of twenty two miles down to a minimum range of three miles, not at a range of one hundred fifty feet. Therefore all four of the seventeen hundred pound projectiles reached their target in exactly fifty five milliseconds. The Deutschland's hull was near the upper limit of the 'bots estimated thickness range and therefore rather than passing through, the shells all detonated on impact. A massive shockwave poured through the Deutschland, while a nearly as powerful blast reflected back against the Hitler.

The giant overpressure pulse forced the fantail of the Hitler completely below water. As the shockwave raced forward, it knocked sailors off their feet all over the ship. On the high exposed bridge the pressure wave ruptured eardrums, eyes, and internal organs of everyone present.

As Sliviuh's body slumped to the floor amongst all of the seriously injured and dying men, her 'bot system calmly reported it would be ten seconds until her wounds would be repaired. As she drifted near unconsciousness, she realized there would be sufficient time to restore the captain and most of the bridge crew before their deaths became permanent.

End of Chapter 17

Author's Notes

Well, darn. I said I would get to the big action sequence this chapter, but as usual, I underestimated how long it would take to get all of the chessmen to their required squares on the board. But I do believe everyone is now in position.

It has been a long time since Sliviuh has been part of this story. But for anyone who is interested in a little refresher, some of her history was told in chapters 31 and 32 of 'The Portal'.

As with the last chapter, I have put my responses to reader reviews at the link on my author's page. Also, if you like to read along as I develop the next chapter, a 'work-in-progress' version can also be found there.

As always, have a great day!

Duane


	18. Biological Families Chapter 18

11/27/05

Biological Families - Chapter 18

The emergency light flickered several times before settling into a steady red glow. A few seconds later the other three emergency lights also kicked in and provided sufficient light to reveal the chaos filling the Deutschland's bridge. Cries of pain from the more seriously injured men punctuated the background noise of moans escaping from everyone else.

Chief Pilot Horst Treusch von Buttlar-Brandenfels tried, with only limited success, to suppress his own moans as he pressed himself up from the deck to a sitting position. After a couple quick breathes he grabbed the edge of the plot table and forced himself the rest of the way erect. As he stood on shaky legs, his first thought was that he was glad his head had missed the edge of the table on the way down. His mouth was full of blood from where his teeth had caught his lip, cheek, or tongue when he hit the deck, but at least he was still conscious.

As his thoughts started to come into focus, he realized the ship was still intact. The deck was level, so either the anti-gravity drive was functioning or the ship was floating in the ocean. He had made enough Atlantic crossing by ship to know the wallowing motion of a large ship at anchor in the open sea. Since he wasn't sensing it, they must still be in the air and under power.

Of course, there were no guarantees the ship could survive another hit at point blank range. He was turning to shout at the helmsman to get them clear of the Hitler's big guns when it registered he wasn't hearing anything but a loud ringing in his ears. He gave up attempting to shout directions to the helmsman and instead staggered over to the control station at his best possible speed. As he got near he could see through the dim light how all three of the men, who controlled the ship's altitude, direction, and speed, were sprawled on the floor; two were moving weakly, but one was definitely out cold.

Buttlar-Brandenfels reached the controls and gently eased the altitude control lever up a notch, not wanting to risk overstressing the drive system. All of the displays for altitude and airspeed were down, but he could feel the acceleration without them. Fortunately, the Deutschland was turning out to be as tough as it looked.

The next person to reach the control station was Admiral Falle. As Buttlar-Brandenfels motioned for the admiral to take over the altitude controls while he moved over to the helm controls, he couldn't help but notice how the two oldest men on the bridge were the first ones to recover and get back into action. But then the Great War had ended almost eighteen years earlier and most of the others of the bridge crew probably had barely been out of diapers then. He had been under fire on several occasions and from reading his public record, he knew Falle had been too. Sometimes, experience did matter.

However it wasn't more than thirty seconds later when some of the other men began returning to their posts. And about the same time Buttlar-Brandenfels noticed the worst of the ringing in his ears was starting to subside.

"Horst, I need a ship's status, now!" shouted Falle.

Buttlar-Brandenfels nodded and then looked over to communications desk. Smoke was curling out of the back of the console as he watched the two men stationed there work frantically to get the front panel off. It was going to be at least a few minutes before the internal phone system would be back on-line.

Quickly, Buttlar-Brandenfels waved over the nearest enlisted man. "Jennings, break out the backup portable radios. Then send runners to the engineering deck and the main gun decks to ensure they switch to the portable radios, too."

By force of habit, Jennings snapped off a quick salute before dashing off to set things in motion.

Buttlar-Brandenfels knew the man would do his duty, but at least for a few minutes finding out the ship's status was out of his hands. With nothing better to do while he waited, he strode over to the controls for the nearest periscope. Thankfully, these controls seemed to work and as the eyepiece lowered into position he could only hope its counterpart was rising from the upper surface of the central sphere. This periscope was located forward and to port of the main upper gun turret. It wouldn't provide a three hundred sixty degree view of their surrounds, but it was better than nothing.

Almost before it had stopped lowering into position, he thrust his face up to the eyepiece. At first all he saw was blue, but at least it was not the black of the periscope's protective sleeve. He quickly swiveled around but couldn't see anything but a lot of blue sky, a little blue water, and even more brilliant red paint from the seemingly endless upper hull of the saucer section. He had long wondered about the effectiveness of these periscopes during the ship's construction. And now he had his answer – they were practically worthless in their current position. With the broad sweeping hull of the saucer section, he couldn't see anything on the water's surface closer than ten kilometers. If they were going to be of any value in situations like this, they would need to be somehow positioned at the outer edge of the saucer section with their light output then relayed by mirrors to here on the bridge. Of course, for close in situations like this one with the Hitler, they really needed something similar located on the lower surface of the ship. Suddenly, he found himself wishing they had something like a real time movie camera that could send pictures from anywhere on the outer hull.

Buttlar-Brandenfels shook his head; he had definitely spent too much time on the alien's ship. He needed to focus on the tools they had rather than daydreaming about things they did not. Besides they had fought many wars before with spotters, observers, and runners, they could do it again this time, too.

As he straightened from his position at the periscope's eyepiece, the admiral was approaching from one direction while a crewman ran up from another with the portable radio. Although backpack radio would be a more descriptive title, thought Buttlar-Brandenfels.

When he was within reach, the crewman thrust the handset to the chief pilot.

"Go ahead, this is the bridge," said Buttlar-Brandenfels into the radio.

"Sir, this is Ensign Krause, the third engineer. The worst of the damage is on the port side of the lower sphere. Most of the power in that area of the ship is down. We are definitely not getting power to the port side battery and I don't know if those guns are damaged. We are getting power to the starboard lower turret, the upper turret and the ammo delivery mechanism. However I don't have any direct information on the status of those guns either."

"Status of the anti-grav drive, ensign?" asked the pilot.

"Everything appears to be fully functional, but we won't know for certain until chief engineer Sheffer completes his inspection."

"Very good, ensign. I expect another status report in five minutes. Bridge out."

Buttlar-Brandenfels handed the handset back to the radio operator with instructions to try and reach the starboard and upper turret control rooms. Then, as he was turning back to Admiral Falle to impart the gist of the engineer's message, the main lights for the bridge flicked back on.

"Sir, the power is down on the port side of the ship. Power is reaching the starboard and upper main batteries, but I haven't received word yet whether the guns themselves are operational."

As he waited for the admiral to respond, Buttlar-Brandenfels took in the nasty gash gracing Falle's left temple. Under the red emergency lights it had simply looked like a dark smudge. But now with the lights restored the vivid red of blood was obvious. The way his tongue hurt made Buttlar-Brandenfels wondered if his mouth was dripping blood as badly as the admiral's temple.

"Horst, this certainly proves the situation on the Hitler is as bad as the message which sent us out here indicated. Whatever is going on down there, we have to stop it. I am going to go look into the gun situation personally. While I am gone, I want you to get the ship into firing position. Now, assuming both the starboard and the upper guns turn out to be operational, which is the better choice for a counterattack?"

Buttlar-Brandenfels only needed a moment to mull the situation over. "I would recommend the starboard battery, sir. With the upper guns we will have to move off a significant distance and lob projectiles at them. And based on what was said earlier, we would have to be down at sea-level to achieve any accuracy. Being down at sea-level would seem to nullify our advantages, because if we are sitting at sea-level, the Hitler's shots are going to be just as accurate as ours and it would be their eight guns against our two.

"However if we use the starboard guns, we can stay in reasonably close and fire down at them. It should be easier for us to hit them by firing down than for them to hit us firing up. It's like my 'strategy and tactics' instructor back at the academy always said – 'you want to control the high ground'."

Falle nodded. "I went to a navel academy rather than one associate with the army, but I am familiar with the 'high ground' concept. Okay, I am headed for the starboard gun emplacement. Get us lined up for a shot. And try to find a position from which we can more easily hit them than they us."

As the admiral turn to leave, Buttlar-Brandenfels called out one last recommendation. "SIR! Stop by the storage area and get another radio in case theirs is not working."

Falle waved an acknowledgement and then grabbed one of the radio techs on his way out.

Buttlar-Brandenfels found himself wondering whether his assistant pilot, Erwin Prochnow, had survived the initial attack. He had been down at the lowest level of the central sphere providing directions as they had made their final approach on the Hitler. They hadn't been particularly close and it wasn't personal concern for the man that brought him to mind. No, Buttlar-Brandenfels' mind was strictly focused on the situation at hand. It would definitely improve the odds if someone on the lower hull was available to help with the coordination of their flight path and could provide ranging information for their shots.

His first choice for that dual job would be Prochnow, but until he heard if the man was still alive and functional, he would have to settle for someone else. One of the gunnery chiefs was the logical choice. Hurriedly, he dispatched more runners to the port and upper gun emplacements to locate one of the appropriate men and get them repositioned down in the lower hull.

- + - - +

It felt like it had taken at least thirty minutes of hard work to get them in position for their first shot at the Hitler, but when Buttlar-Brandenfels checked the clock, he saw it had really been less than five minutes. Extreme excitement, just as much as extreme boredom, seemed able to bring time to a halt.

"Fire," he heard Chief Gunnery officer Klaus Tauber order across the radio link from his observation position near the bottom of the lower half of the central sphere. Not from the actual bottom level of the sphere, but rather from one level up. Much of the damage from the Hitler's first salvo had been localized to the lowest level. Unfortunately, the assistant pilot and fourteen other men, who had been in the compartment from which the commandos had so recently departed the vessel, were all dead. Two large, three-meter wide holes had punched through the seventy centimeter thick hull. One of these had severely damaged one of the three large landing struts. Landing at the end of this mission was going to be a problem; assuming they survived the mission.

Buttlar-Brandenfels was tempted to cross his fingers as the jolt from the weapons' discharge was felt through the deck of the bridge. With almost no experience with the anti-grav drive, there was no telling what additional shock would be its undoing. And he tried really hard not to think about the consequences if the anti-grav failed at their current thousand meter height. The ship would drop like a giant stone and the impact with the water would be about the same as hitting solid rock.

"One hit just forward of the fantail and one miss," reported Tauber. "Increase speed by one knot and fire again when ready."

Buttlar-Brandenfels relayed the instruction to the crewman at the speed controls. Then there was nothing more for him to do but wait for the next salvo or a response from the Hitler. It was a stroke of luck that the Deutschland could depress its lower guns two degrees more than the Hitler could elevate its guns. This left a narrow arc where the Deutschland could hit its opponent without them hitting back. As long as the Hitler stayed on a straight course and they ran on a parallel one, things would be okay. But it shouldn't take whoever was in control of the Hitler long to grasp the situation and change to a zigzag course. Then it would probably be impossible to stay in the tiny sweet spot and the advantage might swing back to the Hitler with its more numerous guns. They were certainly going to have a lot of suggestions for improvements and upgrades when they got back to the base. But then the battleship had had seventy years worth of improvements since the first ironclads had been used during the American Civil War whereas this first flying battleship had only seen thirty minutes of operation and five minutes of combat.

Twenty-five seconds after its opening salvo, the starboard turret fired again. They hadn't quite achieved their rated firing interval of eighteen seconds, but not bad under the circumstances, thought Buttlar-Brandenfels.

"Two hits just aft of the superstructure," reported Tauber. "I am seeing significant black smoke."

Buttlar-Brandenfels heard cheering coming from the comm-station where another portable radio was set up. He felt a moment of elation himself before Tauber continued.

"Wait. The Hitler is turning hard to port and the smoke I am seeing may not be from our shells. . . Shit!"

At this extremely short range, it only took several seconds from Tauber's shout of exclamation from seeing the flash of the Hitler's big aft guns until one of its shells detonated against the already damaged lower sphere.

This time they were more prepared and the thousand meter range rather than fifty meter range must have helped or perhaps it was being hit by only one projectile rather than four. Whatever the cause, the lights only flickered briefly on the bridge and no one was thrown to the deck.

Tauber's voice was suddenly a lot shakier, but he was still able to do his job. "Bridge - turn twenty-five degrees to port. Guns – raise angle four degrees and fire in ten seconds."

Tauber had been chosen for the Deutschland because he was one of the three best gunnery chiefs in the fleet; the other two were manning the starboard and upper turrets. Buttlar-Brandenfels hoped that was going to be good enough. Then he wondered if the fourth through seventh best were onboard the Hitler. And if they were, why were they helping whoever had taken over the ship? The report had said two women had taken control of the ship, but they could hardly being running the ship and firing the guns all by themselves. So who was helping them? And why?

- - + - - + -

Major Biberach not only felt the great battleship shudder, but heard the explosion and subsequent ripping and tearing of metal the second time it was hit. This time it had been a lot worse and closer than the first time. That one had been far enough away it wasn't much worse than when the battleship fired a broadside with all eight main guns. But this time it had thrown all three of them to the deck and based on the ongoing secondary explosions there was no question what it was. This attack had to be in response to their call for help. And now it was time for them to do their part.

"Hein, it is time for our diversion. Get that door open now," ordered Biberach, as he scrambled back to his feet.

In the eight minutes since the blowtorch had first burned through the door near the upper hinge, that blowtorch had nearly completed its task. A second torch had flared through the door near the lower hinge four minutes later and was now about halfway through the task of cutting out its target.

Hein stepped up to the door and reached for the twisted handle. Just before he started to bend it back into the position required to unlatch the door, Frenkel tapped his shoulder. Once he had Hein's attention, Frenkel used hand gestures to indicate Hein should stand to the side as he unlatched the door. Then Frenkel would take a running start and smash the door open. Hopefully with the weakened latches he would be able to rip the door loose and use it as a projectile to take out some of the men waiting outside.

For a moment a memory of how they had used similar tactics back at the hotel in Berlin to snatch Mrs. Jones and the others flashed through Hein's mind. He immediately tried to suppress that particular memory. He had thought about it too much already over the past couple of days. And frequently he had ended up wishing the door at the hotel had withstood their attack. Only terribly bad things seemed to have resulted from grabbing Marion Jones and that fucking girl, Lana Lang.

Quickly, Hein forced his attention back to the situation at hand, nodded his agreement with Frenkel's plan, and stepped to the side before putting his hand back on the door handle. When Frenkel had stepped back four paces and nodded he was ready, Hein used his incredible enhanced strength to rip the heavy iron handle completely off of the door.

Almost before the handle came free, Frenkel was using every ounce of energy his powerful legs could develop to drive himself at the door. Three hard strides and he lowered his right shoulder and slammed it into the door. With a screech that seemed even louder than the impact of the giant projectiles which had been hitting the ship, the remaining bits of steel holding the door in place tore free.

Frenkel's momentum and still driving legs pushed the thick, gray door into the corridor in much the same way the linemen pushed the practice tackle sled in American-style football. The engineering crews working on the door were quickly smashed out of the way. Only one of the armed crewmen managed to get off a shot with his carbine before Frenkel and his door were among them. And unfortunately for Frenkel and Hein's opponents, all the single bullet managed to do was ricochet off the door and take down one of their own men.

And then it was too late for guns. Frenkel tossed the door at the largest group of armed men. It smashed into them, knocking most of them to the floor, and pinning three of them under its three hundred kilo weight.

While the door was still sailing through the air, Frenkel was already moving to the nearest man still standing. Grabbing him, Frenkel tossed him hard at the next largest group of armed men.

As Frenkel swept his gaze around looking for any other armed men, as they were the only ones who posed a serious danger, he found Hein already tearing into the last group of three men. And so, in less then five seconds, all ten armed men were out of commission.

By the time Biberach stepped out into the corridor five seconds later, all their remaining opponents were also scattered on the floor – unconscious, dying, or already dead. Biberach paused to take in the carnage. Of their opposition only Marion Jones remained on her feet where she stood cowering with her back pressed firmly up against an exposed I-beam.

Biberach had hoped their sudden attack might have caught their primary opponent, the girl Lana Lang, off guard, but he saw no hint of her body among the casualties scattered on the floor.

With only one source of information currently available, Biberach marched over to Marion Jones and grabbed her arm, using the motion to take out at least a small portion of the frustration which had been building up in him over the past few hours.

"Where is the girl, Mrs. Jones?" He demanded without preamble.

Marion's heart was still pounding madly from the Nazis' sudden attack. She stared down into the face of this little man who had so viciously gunned down Lana's friend Whitney back at the chateau. And she was almost startled to realize she was less afraid of him or what he might do to her than she was of her supposed ally, Laura. He could hurt her or even kill her, but the girl could mess directly with her mind. And if she was so inclined, Laura could even torture her to death and then heal her and start all over again.

Marion couldn't suppress the shudder which ran through her body. Biberach might think it was in reaction to her fear of him, but he would have been wrong.

"The last I saw of her, I think she was headed towards the bridge," gasped Marion.

Before Biberach could respond, the Hitler heeled over at nearly a twenty degree angle as it executed a hard turn. Then almost before the ship had straightened back out, the aft main guns launched another salvo.

As soon as the noise damped out, Frenkel grabbed Biberach's free arm.

"Major, we are not doing any good standing around here. Besides, this is the first place they are going to come looking for us."

Biberach glanced briefly at Marion Jones before nodding. "We need to proceed to the bridge. Frenkel, you take point. Hein, watch the rear. Let's move."

"I wouldn't go there, if I were you," stated Marion with a calmness in her voice which surprised even her. When the others paused to look at her, she continued. "Whatever you think she is, she is way more powerful than that. She has gained control over most of the crew of the ship. And I mean complete control, I have seen it myself. Every single one of those men will gladly give his life for her. And if she touches you, you will become her slave, too."

Frenkel took in the expression in Mrs. Jones' face. At first he assumed she was just trying to delay them to give the girl more time to complete whatever plans she was working on. But her words and expression sank in; the woman was afraid of what the girl was doing. Really afraid. When he and the Major had been on the bridge earlier, they had witnessed the blood ceremony the girl had been performing. And he remembered the expression on the kneeling man's face; that man would definitely give his life for the girl. Was that what was in store for them? If they were forced to fight against the girl without some significant advantage, he suspected they might lose. But he had never considered what the girl could do to them in that situation. A chill ran down his spine as he contemplated becoming a slave who would have no choice but doing her bidding. Perhaps instead of trying to find the girl, they should be using this time to escape from this ship.

But before Frenkel could voice his concern, Biberach selected their course.

"Nice try, Mrs. Jones. However we have our duty to the Fatherland to consider. Your friend must be stopped before she can return to Germany. And we can't do that by cowering in some corner. No, the only way we can ensure she is stopped is by aiding those who are attacking this ship. Therefore we need to get to the bridge. So, move!"

Biberach savagely twisted Marion's arm to get her moving and then the party headed in the direction of the bridge.

- - + - - + - - +

Clark pushed open the large door which provided the exit to the hangar in which Var's ship had sat for the past two years. The hangar had, in fact, been built around the spot where the massive ship had crashed to earth and the door had yet to serve its primary function.

The door had been equipped with a large pair of electric motors, but Clark in his hurry hadn't taken the time to locate their controls. And even if he had found them, he didn't think he would have had the patience to wait as they slowly opened the wide door. Besides it had almost been a pleasure to have a large inanimate object on which he could vent some of his fury. It had been a long couple of days since Lana and Marion had been abducted, but at last their return was almost in sight.

When Clark had the doors all the way open, he turned and looked at the ship. He had expected the symbols engraved onto its surface to be glowing incandescently by now as a sign the ship was powering up. However he quickly remembered he was still functioning in 'speed-mode' and doubtlessly Var would have had to drop back to normal time to use the controls.

Clark raced back over to the ship and up the boarding ramp. At the top of the ramp he spent a 'speed-mode' minute studying the controls. Then he dropped out of 'speed-mode' long enough to press the switch which looked most likely to retract the gangway. After a couple of seconds his guess was confirmed by the beginning of the retraction cycle. He only waited a few more seconds to ensure the gangway was withdrawing properly before resuming his 'speed-mode' dash to the upper control room.

He flew up the grav-shaft and landed lightly on the deck of the command level. He did a quick glance around the room to ensure none of his companions were looking in his direction before dropping out of 'speed-mode'.

None of the others were looking in his direction, as he found them all clustered around the elevated command chair where Var was sitting. The travelogue style tour of Krypton, which had been displaying on the inner surface of the dome when he and Var had made the run outside to see what power source had registered on their senses, was gone. In its place most of the dome now seemed to be transparent, as most of the display was filled with the dark and gloomy view of the interior of the hangar and the parts of the base visible through the open hangar door in the predawn light.

The one portion of the dome not showing the interior of the hangar was instead showing a map of the area similar to the one which had been displaying on the wall in Var's cabin during his and Clark's aborted conversation. Only now, in addition to a red X at the location from Biberach's radio message, it was also showing a blinking symbol slowly moving across the map that could only be the warship they had just watched depart. As he watched, he could see the warship was arcing off to the east rather than taking the most direct path to the point referenced in the radio message. Clark tried to guess what they were up to.

Had the message been in code? Immediately a scene from the second Star Trek movie, 'The Wrath of Khan' had flashed through his head. It was the scene where Kirk and Spock explained to Saavik that when the enemy was monitoring your transmissions, 'by the book' you were supposed to use code – like saying days, but meaning hours. Had Biberach and the Nazis been doing something similar? Was the ship's true position off-set by a predetermined number of degrees to the east?

Hurriedly, Clark strode over to the command chair arriving just as Var was climbing back down.

"What's happening?" asked Clark. "Why isn't the ship powering up?"

"We are having a small problem, but I think I know what it is," stated Var. "It should only take a couple of minutes to fix."

"Do we have a couple of minutes?" asked Clark while raising an eyebrow that he hoped Var would correctly interpret as saying 'it would be nice to take the ship and the others, but if there wasn't time the two of us should just fly to save Lana and Marion'.

Var gave a small nod of his head to indicate he understood Clark's unspoken message. Then he turned and looked at the map for a moment.

"I think we have time. The other ship we saw is not proceeding very fast. This has to be the first time they powered up it up or I would have known. It looks to me like they aren't expecting pursuit and are moving slowly to give themselves time to shake out any glitches."

Then Var paused for a moment and switched to the voice he used to communicate with his ship. "SHIP – how long until the ship you are tracking reaches the indicated spot?"

"_AT THEIR CURRENT SPEED, THEY SHOULD REACH THE TARGET IN TWENTY-SIX MINUTES_."

"Why aren't they heading directly to the spot on the map?" asked Clark. "Could the location given in the radio message have been a decoy?"

Var's brow furrowed for a moment as though he was deep in thought. Then his face relaxed as he responded. "I don't think so. It will be dawn about the time the ship reaches the location from the message. I think whoever is in command of that ship is trying to approach out of the sun to allow them to see their target before the target sees them. At least that would be the logical strategy since these Germans don't have 'Lumix'. Hmm, what is the earth term for long range sensors operating in the short wavelength portion of the electro-magnetic range?"

Clark reflected on Var's interpretation of the Germans' strategy for a moment and decided it was consistent what he remembered from a lot of old movies about the air war during the Second World War. They did always talking about flying 'out of the sun'. While he was lost in thought, he almost absent-mindedly answered Var's question with the word – 'Radar'.

Var was heading towards the grav-shaft as he responded to Clark's original question. "So, anyway, you can see we have plenty of time. Without pushing my ship too hard, we can cover the distance from here to the target in less than two minutes. Therefore we have a good twenty minutes to get my ship running before we need to leave."

At the entrance to the grav-shaft, Var paused and turned back to the others who were still clustered around the command chair. "Please wait here. And don't touch any of the controls unless I request it."

Then Var quickly disappeared down the dark shaft.

- + - - + - - +

Unfortunately, Var's estimate of the time to solve the problem with his ship turned out to be optimistic. Over twenty-three minutes passed before he finally reached them over the ship's intercom.

"This is Var. I have finally figured out what the problem is and I should be finished in about five more minutes. What is the status of Germans' flying ship?"

Clark looked once more at the map being displayed on the inner surface of the dome. Although it was hardly necessary, it didn't seem like his eyes had left it for more than ten seconds at a time since Var had left the command level.

"It is just like you predicted, they are arcing back to the west and have now almost reached the spot indicated in the radio message. I would guess they will be in sight of the target in less than two minutes. If we are going to get there in time, we have to hurry."

"I will do my_ best_," answered Var with extra emphasis on the last word to indicate to Clark he was using his 'special' gifts to get the job completed as swiftly as possible. Then he signed off with a simple "Var, out."

Clark drummed his fingers against the armrest of the command chair as he watched Whitney restlessly pace the length of the command deck. This time when his path took him back to where Clark and the others stood, he asked the question which was on all of their minds.

"Exactly what are we going to do when we get out there?"

Clark began with the obvious. "We are going to rescue Lana and Marion." Then it struck home what else they were going to have to do; they had to come up with a way to destroy the giant flying weapon the Germans had created by copying the design of Var's ship. The history books had never indicated the Nazis had such a device, so it had to be eliminated, but how?

The thing was outfitted with guns that looked to be straight from a battleship. And if their drive system was capable of lifting those massive guns, it probably had a hull that was many inches thick just like Var's ship, too. If Var's ship didn't have any weapons, that just left his abilities. Could he possibly be a match for that great ship? It had to be a hundred, maybe a thousand times the weight of the giant obelisk he had tossed back in ancient Rome.

Clark experienced a moment of doubt. But then he forced himself to give a small positive nod of the head, he would find a way, he had too.

Looking at Whitney, he continued. "After getting the girls, we are going to have to deal with this ship the Germans have built."

He and Clark had had enough conversations since this adventure had begun about the importance of protecting the timeline that Whitney immediately understood Clark's comment. He just hoped, with all of the high tech stuff stashed away in this ship that Var had a solution to the potential time paradox the Germans' flying copy posed.

"Clark, if the Germans' ship has the same drive system as Var's ship, do you think it can travel to other planets, too?"

Clark stared at Whitney for a moment. That thought had never occurred to him. If they failed to stop the Nazis, they could use ships like the one they had already built to not only conquer the earth, but possibly expand out into the galaxy. If they enslaved the whole planet and turned it into slave labor like they had done to so much of Europe during the Second World War, they could churn out those ships by the thousands.

Clark shrugged. "I don't know. We will have to ask Var. But can you imagine letting the Nazis run loose with that technology?"

Whitney nodded. He only had Lana's description of how viscously that Nazi, Biberach, had killed him, but it was enough to provide proof of what they were capable of.

"Perhaps your Vulcan friends can help," interjected Indy.

Clark felt a hysterical laugh trying to make its way to the surface. He had almost forgotten the cover story he had been feeding Indy about the crashed alien spaceship and the United Federation of Planets. If only it was true and the Enterprise was about to come warping in to save the day. But the solution wasn't going to be phasers; his speed, strength, and heat vision would have to suffice.

"Spock is currently in America and I don't know what he could do to help even if he was here. And we haven't yet received any response to the Mayday signal we have sent to his people. It could be months or years. No, Hank, we need to stop these Germans today and it will be up to us."

Indy was slowly nodding as Var reappeared at the top of the grav-shaft.

Var was moving at just short of a 'normal-mode' run as he crossed over to the command chair and then quickly dropped into the seat. Between flipping a few switches and issuing short verbal commands to the ship's brain, he commented. "I don't understand it, I tried four replacement . . . ah, capacitors in the control interface to the anti-grav system. All of them failed within three seconds of applying a load. Finally, I had to steal one from the backup life-support system to get things working."

"Where did you get these 'replacement' parts?" asked Whitney.

"Oh, the Germans fabricated them for me. Why?" responded Var.

"Ah, I thought so."

Var looked up from the control panel which had been holding his attention as the anti-grav drive system finally started to power up. "I don't understand. The part wasn't that difficult to fabricate using current technology. Why do you think it matters that it was the Germans who fabricated this particular part?"

Whitney shook his head. Despite all of his advanced scientific knowledge, Var didn't seem to understand the Nazis at all. And that was after living among them for two years. "Var, the Nazis have no incentive to let you go until they have sucked every bit of technical knowledge from you that they can. Oh, they might let you appear to be making progress towards getting your ship operational, but they will never let you be successful. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised, if they left a few other 'booby-traps' scattered in other components buried throughout your ship."

Var glanced over at Clark, who shrugged briefly and then nodded his head slowly to indicate he agreed with Whitney's assessment.

Var hadn't ever considered the situation before from the Germans' perspective. He had thought the few parts they had helped fabricate would have only made a modest impact on the level of their technological capabilities. He never would have dreamed they had gleaned enough information from him or his ship to have built their own ship in a mere two years. Suddenly, the logic of Whitney's statement was obvious. And when he thought about it, the Germans had been involved in recreating a surprisingly large array of parts.

"SHIP – develop a list of all the parts the Germans have fabricated. Rank them by which ones will have the most detrimental impact on the safe operation of the ship. Then evaluate if we can cannibalize replacement parts from non-essential systems the Germans haven't touched."

"_Working_," responded the ship.

Before the ship could respond further to Var's instructions, they all felt the slight shifting in the gravity field which indicated the drive was coming on line. This sensation was quickly followed by a faint whine and then by the much louder metallic thud of the three main struts retracting into the hull.

Immediately most of Var's attention was back on the controls as the ship began easing out of the hangar. A hangar, Var quickly realized, which had been as much a prison cell for him as a place to repair his ship. Why hadn't he followed through on his original main goal of finding a refuge for his family and all of the other citizens of Krypton? Had the Germans been manipulating him since the very beginning?

Focus, thought Var, as he found he was chastising himself for all of the wasted time. There would be time for self-incriminations later.

The sun had just cleared the horizon as the ship moved out of the hanger. The seemly transparent dome of the command level made it feel like they were standing in the center of a metallic bronze platform. The only thing missing was the feeling of wind rushing passed their bodies as the ship accelerated up and away from the German base.

In only seconds _Wegthor's Shadow_ was clearing the coastline. It could have been accelerating much harder, but Var was being careful to keep it down to a level his human guests could easily handle.

"SHIP, how long until we reach the target?" asked Var.

"WE WILL REACH THE TARGET LOCATION IN THRE . . ." began the Ship's brain when abruptly its voice was cut off by a blaring alarm and a cascade of purple warning lights on the command chair's control panels.

It only took a brief glance for Var to recognize the problem and understand they had just been the recipients of another little present from the Germans. Oh, the ship wasn't going to blow up, but it would come crashing back down to the ground very hard in less than ten seconds. Or in this case, crashing into the ocean. Obviously, whoever had come up with latest method of sabotage had timed it carefully. They just hadn't expected Var to go barreling out of the hangar in quite this much of a rush.

Once more Var was forced to jump down from the command chair and rush to the exit in route to some hasty repairs. But this time he was going to need some help if he was to be in time to save his ship from destruction.

"Clark, with me," Var yelled as he dived into the grav-shaft.

Clark looked from Whitney, Indy, and Gretchen, and then to flashing lights all over the controls before heading to the grav-shaft at just short of superspeed, at least until he was out of sight of the others.

Once he was in the grav-shaft, Clark shifted into speed-mode and accelerated down the shaft. Halfway down the shaft he saw light leaking into the shaft from a level which had never been lit during his previous passages through the shaft. Assuming this is where Var had gone; Clark dropped out of the grav-shaft and landed lightly on the deck, although he stayed in speed-mode. He guessed from all of the warnings going off that time was of the essence.

Quickly scanning the area, he saw heavy equipment everywhere. This level, located in the center of the ship, was obviously part of the drive system of the great ship. Finally, Clark saw Var near the end of one of the long passages which headed out radially from the centrally located grav-shaft at even thirty degree intervals. As he ran to where he could see Var, Clark realized the passage was way too long to stay within the confines of the central sphere and must extend a good distance out into the surrounding saucer section.

When he reached Var, he found Var was also operating in 'speed-mode'. He watched as Var ripped through a two inch thick metal wall with his bare hands. Apparently, there wasn't time for normal access procedures, whatever they might be.

As Var stepped through the newly created opening, he glanced at Clark. "Clark, follow me."

Clark did as Var asked and found himself in a long narrow passage which was almost completely filled with a giant cylindrical shaft at least five feet in diameter. The passage was coated with dust as though it hadn't been accessed in many years.

Var had squeezed to the left upon entering and instructed Clark to move to the right. Then as Clark watched he saw Var was concentrating his heat vision on one local spot on the shaft. When the spot had gone from orange to yellow to incandescent white, Var slammed the fingers of his left hand straight into the molten metal. Immediately he turned his heat vision on another spot eight inches to the right and a foot higher up.

"Clark, start burning handholds into the shaft. We are going to have to spin it up manually."

Clark was still staring at where Var's fingers were jammed into the cylinder. In 'speed-mode' the metal surrounding them was still glowing an impossible white hot. Could his fingers really survive exposure to molten metal?

"Clark, do it now!" commanded Var.

Var's powerful voice shook Clark from his reverie and he turned his own heat vision against the shaft. While he was waiting for the first spot to reach a white-hot state, he asked. "What does this shaft do?"

"The power source for the ship is self-sustaining, once it is brought up to speed. But the first time it is started, external power is required to initiate the system. This shaft is driven by an external power source during the initial startup sequence. After that, it is almost never needed again. So it just sits here."

Var paused a moment as he completed his second handhold. Then he used his incredible strength to slowly rotate the shaft until he was in position to start burning a third handhold in line with the first.

"Under normal circumstances it can't generate sufficient power to run the anti-grav system by itself, rather it just supplies enough supplemental power to initialize the system. But then, in normal operations it is limited to a maximum speed of about two thousand revolutions per minute. I think if we can get it up to a hundred twenty thousand revolutions per minute, it should be able to generate enough power to keep the anti-grav system online."

The initial spot Clark had been working on reached white-hot. He took a deep breath and then followed Var's example and jammed his fingers into the molten metal. Surprisingly, it didn't feel much different from the scalding hot water his Mom used while doing the dishes. He was thankful it didn't feel like his skin was being burned off down to the bones.

Experimentally, he used his fingers to try to rotate the shaft. It took a lot of effort, but slowly it began to turn. Then he felt Var add his own effort and the shaft started turning a little faster and easier.

"Keep at it, Clark," directed Var.

Clark turned his attention to burning his second handhold while Var was already working on his fourth.

"So, are we going to fly all the way out to the ship by manually powering the anti-grav system?" asked Clark.

"Not we, Clark. You. The Germans sabotaged another component necessary to transfer power from the generator to anti-grav mechanism. I need to disconnect the power source to replace it. You will need to keep the ship from crashing while I work."

Clark remembered the massively thick hull they had seen down at the entrance to the ship. How much did this ship weigh? How much power did it take to keep it suspended thousands of feet up in the air? What if he couldn't do it?

Clark felt the power shaft spin a little faster under his hands as Var finished his current handhold and rotated the shaft to work on his next. Quickly Clark turned his attention back to the task of burning his own handholds. If Var thought he could do this, he would try his best not to disappoint the older man.

To distract his mind while he worked, Clark asked. "These Nazis are incredibly dark, vile men. It is very scary to think they have access to this kind of technology. Can they use their ship to reach other star systems? Because Nazis with interstellar drive technology is one of the scariest things I can imagine."

"I don't think they have access. The anti-grav drive and the interstellar drive are two completely different systems. Only my anti-grav system was damaged during my trip here, so I only gave items related to it to the Germans for assistance. So they shouldn't have had access to the interstellar drive. However I never would have guessed they would have been able to create an operational anti-grav system either. So I will have to investigate the interstellar system carefully before I use it as well."

Clark let out a small sigh of relief. He didn't understand why it seemed so important that the Nazis couldn't reach the stars. Did it have something to do with Krypton? He had no personal memories of Krypton, so why did he suddenly feel so protective of it?

For the next few 'speed-mode' minutes the two men worked in silence, each lost in his thoughts. Finally, they completed the task of creating finger-holds around the entire circumference of the solid metal shaft.

"Okay, Clark, let's see if we can get this thing up to speed."

Together they started spinning the shaft faster and faster. Clark felt like he was moving his arms as fast as he possibly could, but it didn't seem like it would be enough. As he worked, he tried running the numbers through his head. One hundred twenty thousand revolutions per minute equaled two thousand revolutions per second. He had created fifteen hand-holds around the circumference, so he needed to do thirty thousand hand motions per second. Thirty thousand?

That's when the solution hit him. It wasn't about moving his arms faster, it was about moving deeper into 'speed-mode' just like during the destruction of the chateau where he was moving so fast that what felt like twenty-four hours to him was less than a second in 'real' time.

So with that thought in mind, Clark slowed his arms to a more comfortable pace while simultaneously accelerating his special 'speed-mode' ability for a significant net increase in the speed of the shaft.

Steadily the two men worked to accelerate the massive shaft. As he pushed the limits of his 'speed-mode' capabilities further and further, Clark wondered how Var would know when they had reached the required speed. In this tight, enclosed space with no visible frame of reference, Clark had no idea whether the shaft was spinning at four thousand RPM, forty thousand RPM, or even four hundred thousand RPM. But whether Var was using some special Kryptonian equipment which functioned in speed mode, or knowledge of this location which permitted him to estimate the shaft's speed, or maybe his 'Purl Nous' experience gave him the equivalent of ESP, he eventually informed Clark the shaft was going at the required speed.

"So, Clark, can you hold the shaft at this speed while I go make the repair?"

Clark felt the shaft spinning under the pressure from his fingers. It took a lot of effort to keep the shaft humming at its current speed, but that wasn't the hardest part. No, keeping himself this deep into 'speed-mode' was the real drain on his stamina.

"Yeah, I think so," replied Clark.

"Okay, then I 'm going to stop helping," said Var.

Steadily the amount of effort Clark was expending increased until Var sat with his hands resting in his lap.

Once Var had some confidence Clark would be able to maintain the pace, he slowly moved to the exit he had torn through the wall earlier. As he moved, he paused at the threshold and looked back at Clark.

"Oh, and Clark, the shaft is in a 'free-spinning mode' at the moment. When I tie it into anti-grav system so I can do the repairs, the resistance of the shaft is going to increase. Good luck."

Now he tells me, thought Clark, as he sat there trapped into being a human dynamo to power the entire massive ship.

For what felt like an hour Clark sat there spinning the shaft without any noticeable change. He was starting to wonder if Var had needed to drop all the way down to 'normal-mode' to perform the repair. If that was the case, it might seem like days from his perspective before anything happened. Just as the thought settled in, was when the change occurred. Over the relatively brief period of three rotations of the shaft, the level of effort required to maintain the shaft's speed seemed to increase by an order of magnitude. Now it was not just the mental strain he was feeling from holding himself so far into 'speed-mode', but physical strain as well.

He experimented with moving even a little deeper into 'speed-mode' to see if it would help. It did allow him to move his arms at a perceptively slower pace, but it did nothing to decrease the effort it took to keep the shaft in motion.

Gamely, Clark continued to rotate the shaft at the same incredible speed. After what felt like another hour from his accelerated perspective, he noticed that the passageway seemed to be getting slowly brighter. As he looked down along the length of the shaft, he noticed a faint orange glow. After another hour, the glow was distinctly brighter and seemed to be emanating along the length of the shaft. At the same time he also realized the metal inside the handholds was starting to feel a little spongy. And was it getting a little warmer, too? Could his actions be causing this effect?

With nothing better to do, Clark tried to run some math in his head. It was not easy and he had to round off a lot of the numbers. If the shaft was five feet in diameter, then its circumference would be roughly fifteen feet. Fifteen feet times one hundred twenty thousand revolutions per minute meant a spot on the surface of the shaft was moving one million eight hundred thousand feet per minute. Approximating a mile as five thousand feet converted the number to three hundred sixty miles per minute. Finally, multiplying by sixty minutes per hour came up with a surface speed of over twenty thousand miles per hour or roughly thirty times the speed of sound.

Clark remembered this was in the ballpark of the speed at which the shuttle re-entered the atmosphere. And the leading edges of the shuttle glowed white hot during re-entry. Was the whole shaft going to turn white hot, too? Or would it reach some equilibrium state before that? In the real world only a fraction of a second had passed since they had started to seriously spin the massive shaft. Hopefully, Var would finish his work and Clark could stop spinning the shaft before it really had time to heat up.

Clark's attention went back to his recently completed math problem. It hadn't really been that hard, but it had pressed his limits for number-crunching without a calculator or at least pencil and paper. From what Var had said, Clark figured if he ever managed to complete the 'Purl Nous' procedure, math problems like this would truly become child's play.

Of course, from what Chloe had explained about her 'bot system, she would barely have to think about a problem like this and the 'bots incredible computational powers would instantly provide the answer, almost like magic.

Then it struck him that since discovering Var and his ship, he had hardly thought about Chloe at all. And she was the whole reason he was back here in Nazi Germany. Oh, it was good to finally learn a little about his heritage, but he had gone his whole life without knowing it. At this moment he would still gladly trade everything he had learned about Krypton to have Chloe back healthy, safe, and whole.

As he sat there steadily driving the shaft with endless repetitive motions of his arms like he was merely one more small cog in some mighty machine, his thoughts wandered back to the last time he had seen Chloe, when she had seemed so far from being healthy, safe, or whole. She had lain in his arms with her body jerking and shuttering in a spasmodic motion completely outside of her control. And her eyes had been rotated so far up into her head only white spheres remained.

Suddenly, her eyes in his mental image rolled back down and, as she stared up at him, she smiled.

"Clark."

"Chloe?" asked Clark in surprise. He could still feel his arms churning away in the background, yet she felt so real. He knew he must be hallucinating, but at the moment he didn't care. He might be trapped here for what would feel like hours more with nothing else to occupy his time. And it felt so good to be with her again.

"Hi, Clark. Miss me?" asked Chloe in the special voice she only used when they were alone. And before Clark could respond, Chloe wiggled up so her mouth could cover his.

Clark pulled her tight for a long, slow kiss he had been so desperately missing. When it finally broke, Chloe pulled back just enough so they could stare into each other's eyes. Clark felt his right hand come up and gently brush her hair back off of her forehead.

"So, what has been happening while I have been away?" she asked.

"I have met someone from my home planet. His name is Var-El."

Chloe rose to her feet and then reached a hand down to Clark. "I would like to meet him, too."

Clark could still feel his hands and arms toiling away at their task, yet in his current dream-state he was able to reach up and take Chloe's hand at the same time. When he reached his feet, he discovered they were no longer down in the root cellar on his parents' farm. Nor were they in the tight enclosed space of the drive shaft tunnel. Instead Clark realized they were standing in the ship's control room just outside the door to Var's private quarters. Not fully understanding why, but following his instincts, Clark reached out and rapped his knuckles on the closed door three times.

Immediately, the door slid open to reveal Var. However Var looked subtly different: a little taller, a little more imposing, a little . . . or maybe a lot . . . wiser. Clark realized this dream-state Var was a stand-in for the biological father he had always secretly dreamed of meeting.

"Hello, Chloe," said Var with the perfect amount of warmth in his voice. Reaching out his hand, he continued. "I am so glad I have finally gotten to meet you."

Var turned to look at Clark and smiled. "Are you ready to go now?"

Clark felt a moment of confusion. "Go where?"

"Why Krypton, of course." Var gestured towards the brilliant white control chair. "You just need to climb into the seat and before you know it, we will be there."

Clark looked down at Chloe and her eyes were shining. "Go ahead, Clark. I know you have been waiting for this moment your whole life."

Clark returned her smile and knew she was right; he had been waiting his whole life to discover his origins. Taking Chloe's hand, he walked over to the command chair. As soon as he was seated, all of the control panels came alive and the hull of the upper sphere of the ship became transparent. Looking out, Clark discovered the ship was no longer in the hangar in Nazi Germany, but was instead sitting in the field behind his house in Smallville. Straight ahead sat the big red barn and the warm yellow farmhouse he had known his entire life.

Standing on the porch looking back at him were his parents. He tried to read the expressions on their faces. They looked both sad and a little scared like they might never see him again. Or if they did see him again, somehow everything would be changed. Clark somehow knew that in this hallucination his parents were just a manifestation of his own internal feelings. Finding out about his origins scared him a little as he wondered how it would change him and change his feelings for his parents, his friends, maybe even towards Chloe.

Without noticing Var's approach, he was suddenly standing by Clark's side. "Clark, to go to Krypton, all you have to do is push this red button."

Clark looked to where Var was pointing and then he looked back at his parents. He could see his Mom fighting back tears and reaching over to squeeze his Dad's fingers. She forced a smile and gave a small nod of her head.

Clark could feel tears welling up in his own eyes as Chloe's right hand found his left.

"Whatever you do, Clark, it will be okay."

Clark closed his eyes for a few seconds, but when he opened them, nothing had changed. With one last glance to his parents, he slowly reached out and pushed the red button.

Instantly the view through the transparent dome changed from an idyllic spring day in Smallville to the harsh alien environment of Krypton. All around them stood weather-beaten, craggy mountains under a deep green sky. The only thing interrupting the desolate skyline was a magnificent domed city visible in the distance. Clark knew what he was seeing was based on jumbled together bits of the paintings hung throughout Var's ship and also on the glimpses he had seen of the travelogue Var had used to entertain Whitney, Indy, and Gretchen. Yet, now, it all seemed so vivid and real.

"Come, let me show you your home world," said Var.

Clark swung his legs down from the command chair. As he rose to his feet, he found they were no longer on the bridge of the ship, but standing on the plain just within the shadow of the great ship. He drew in a deep breath and the air felt subtly different. He couldn't explain it exactly, except somehow it was the fragrance of home.

Var pointed at the city on the horizon. "Kryptonopolis. Your home." Then Var started walking down the gentle slope in the direction of the city.

Clark took Chloe's hand and followed after Var. Like so many other aspects of this dream, the hike to the city seemed to take both many hours and only seconds. Along the way, Var regaled them with many stories of the planet's history, yet later Clark wouldn't be able to remember any of the details.

After hours or maybe seconds, they reached a spot at base of the giant dome. From where they stood, the dome filled half the sky and stretched from horizon to horizon. Immediately in front of them it was pierced by an open portal large enough to pass Var's great ship. They walked through the portal and found themselves looking on a vista as lush as the plain they had just crossed had been desolate. Wide fields with a scattering of large homes stretched out in both directions, sweeping around until they completely encircled the urban center of the city. And everywhere they could see people, children playing in parks, couples strolling through wooded areas, teens participating in several unknown sporting events.

As they walked in the direction of the town proper, Clark's head tried to swivel in all directions at once, lest he miss some detail he might never see again.

After walking about a mile, Var led them to a large crystalline structure. "Welcome to my home."

Waiting at the entrance were Var's wife and three children, whom Clark recognized from the painting in Var's quarters. When Var saw them, he broke into a run and quickly pulled them all into a hug. Clark and Chloe proceeded more slowly to give Var a moment with his family.

When Clark and Chloe reached Var's family, Var quickly made the introductions before motioning them inside. They moved directly to a large dining hall where a feast was already laid out. Until he saw the food Clark hadn't realized how hungry he was. He didn't recognize a single dish, but every bite he took seemed more delicious than the last.

The meal went on for hours yet the conversation never flagged and Clark and Chloe quickly felt like they were part of Var's family. Clark felt more relaxed than he could ever remember. For here there were no secrets to hide, no cover stories to tell. He could simply be himself.

Finally, as all things must, the meal ended. Salva, Var's wife, led Clark and Chloe to the room they would be using during their stay on Krypton.

The room was large and airy with a panoramic view of the town's central spires. But Clark hardly gave any of it a glance as he turned his attention to Chloe. There was so much more he wanted to see and learn about Krypton, but for the past few minutes his thoughts had been focused more and more on her. Quickly he drew her into an embrace as his mouth sought out hers.

It seemed like his lips had barely touched hers when he was interrupted by someone prodding at his shoulder. He tried to ignore it, but the prodding became ever more insistent. Finally, he had to break the feather-light caress his lips had been performing on Chloe's as a prelude to so much more.

Looking to his side, he saw Var's face, but it was so brilliantly lit, he almost didn't recognize him. He saw Var's mouth moving before his voice completely sank in.

"Clark, the repairs are completely. You can stop now."

Clark looked back to where Chloe had been standing before him, but all he now saw were his hands still madly driving a shaft that glowed almost as white hot as a new star. He was back in the power-drive tunnel and it sank in that everything he had been experiencing for the past few hours had been a dream: Var's family, Krypton, and most sadly, Chloe.

As his hands gradually slowed, the 'real' world returned. They were in 1936 Germany on their way to rescue Lana and Marion Jones and along the way needing to discover a way of eliminating a giant, flying battleship. As the enormity of their on-going task sank in, he found himself wishing he could retreat back into the dream.

But wishing wasn't going to help get them out of their current situation and Clark forced himself to focus on the real world. Pulling his hands away from their seemingly endless task, Clark paused for a moment to stretch the aching muscles of his arms while he watched the shaft continue to speed from its inertia. How long would it take to spin down from one hundred twenty thousand revolutions per minute, he wondered.

After a moment's rest, Clark eased his way along the shaft until he was in the opening to the corridor. Stepping out, he noticed the smell of scorched wool. Looking down he saw small curls of smoking rising from the front of his 'borrowed' German uniform. With the intensity of the heat coming from the shaft, he was almost surprised the condition of the uniform wasn't even worse than it was. Patting out the traces of smoke, Clark tried to count the number of sets of clothing he had destroyed over the course of the past year. He really needed to find something better suited to his lifestyle.

Once the worst of it was under control, Clark stepped over to where Var was waiting. Var turned towards the central shaft of the ship and headed out at a leisurely walk. Although since they remained deep in 'speed mode' their actual pace was still far faster than any human eye would be able to follow.

Clark glanced over at Var. "Var, how do we stop the Nazis' flying ship? There is no record of a ship like that in the history books of my time. So it is necessary we destroy it before I and my friends can return home."

Var walked in silence for a moment. "If that's true, it is not just the ship we will have to destroy. No, we will have to destroy enough of their blueprints and design notes to keep them from just building another one."

Clark looked over at Var and knew he was right. "But the plans . . . they could be anywhere."

"Oh, I think, based on their love of security and secrets, most, if not all, the critical information is kept right at this same base. This, in turn, suggests a solution to your question about how to destroy their ship. It is possible to overload the drive system. The resulting gravity wave as the drive implodes will devastate everything within a couple kilometers of the ship. If we can force an overload when the ship is right over the base, the blast should be sufficient to wipe out any stored records."

Clark's thoughts quickly flickered back to his flight over Peenemunde when they had first arrived. He had been looking for a place to start their search for any messages from Biberach, which might have pointed them to where he was holding Lana and Marion. But now, all that came to mind was all of the barracks and other living quarters he had seen. There must be at least twenty thousand people living and working on this base.

"Var, there are thousands of people living here. There must be a solution which doesn't require killing all of them."

Var stared at Clark as though he had said the stupidest thing. "Clark, I am not from some planet filled with crazed killers. I don't want to hurt anymore people than necessary." Var paused as though he was deep in thought for a moment. "I just need to come up with some message to transmit which will force most of them to evacuate. There will still be casualties, but that is the best suggestion I came come up with at the moment short of spending years here trying to track down the plans one by one.

"Okay," answered Clark, feeling somewhat mollified. "So how do I overload a ship's drive?"

Var threw one arm across the younger man's shoulder before beginning to fill him in on how one destroys an anti-matter drive.

+ - + - +

With the ship's drive repaired it took them less than ninety seconds to catch up with the giant flying Nazi warship. The long range radar system on Var's ship had told them the flying ship and the surface ship had already rendezvoused, but it wasn't until they were in visual range that it became apparent the two vessels were locked in mortal combat. Clark could easily see with his enhanced vision how the lower sphere of the flying ship was all torn up and trailing a little smoke from some internal damage.

But the surface ship, where Lana and Marion were to be found if the message had been true, was in far worse shape. Huge billowing black clouds were pouring up from holes in its afterdeck and at least the aft most pair of big guns was hanging all askew and looked to be out-of-action.

Even as he watched, another pair of projectiles from the flying craft exploded against the surface ship in twin balls of fire which completely obscured the aft half of the battleship for several seconds. Clark felt a sharp stab of fear knowing Lana and Marion were somewhere down there.

As Var's ship continued its rapid approach, Clark turned to Whitney and Indy. "If the radio message Var intercepted is true, Lana and Marion are down there on that ship. Are you ready to go aboard and find the women and get them to safety?"

They were close enough now so even Whitney could make out some of the details of the damage the two ships were inflicting on each other. Ever since he had received the Samson braid, Whitney had been burning to use his new found abilities to kick some Nazi butt as payback for their killing him and kidnapping Lana. In his mind he had pictured himself wading through dozens of Nazi soldiers as though they were nothing more than a collection of the inflatable punching bags like the one of Bozo the Clown he had had as a kid.

But the battle he had imagined never included being under fire at the same time from battleship projectiles. For a moment his mind flashed back to Mr. Lewis' history class on the day when he had been discussing World War II battleships and how Mr. Lewis had described the projectiles as weighing the same as Volkswagen Bugs. Just like in the old Monty Python movie where they catapulted a dead cow over the wall into the castle, Whitney pictured these two great dueling ships launching Volkswagens at each other, except these Volkswagens would be a lot more immediately lethal than a plague-filled cow. And no way could he imagine the Samson braid being proof against a direct hit from a Volkswagen composed entirely of high explosives.

Whitney swallowed hard and then ran a hand nervously through his blonde hair as he looked back at Clark. From the inflection in his voice when he had asked his question, it was apparent Clark wasn't intending to go with them. And knowing a little of Clark's abilities, it seemed like having Clark along would be a very good idea.

"You're not coming along?" asked Whitney.

Clark shook his head and then used it to point towards the other flying ship. "No. Var and I are going to be dealing with that. Hopefully, once they are focused on us, they will stop shelling the other one."

Whitney nodded. If Clark could stop the shelling, it would eliminate his biggest concern. "Once we have found the girls, what do we do?"

"Get them to safety."

"How?"

Indy broke into the conversation. "A ship of that size will have a Captain's launch and numerous lifeboats and inflatable rafts. I am sure we can improvise something."

Whitney glanced at Indy and for a moment the glint in the man's eyes really reminded him of the Harrison Ford version of Indy in the movies. Here was a man who had been through numerous tight situations in the past and who wouldn't panic in the clutch. Whitney hoped he would be the same.

"So, what's the plan?" asked Whitney.

Var looked up from his control panels for a moment and met the other men's eyes. "You need to get down to the main access hatch. When you are ready, I will swing down and pause long enough for you to jump down. I don't want to stay under the Nazi's guns any longer than necessary. With all of the sabotage they have done to my ship, I don't want to risk a direct hit; the automated repair system might not be up to the task."

Var paused for a second to study Whitney and Indy before continuing. "You can handle a forty foot drop, right?"

Whitney was forced to raise an eyebrow. He knew if Var was from the same place as Clark and had similar abilities, then a forty foot drop would be nothing to him. But Var had been around humans for two years and he was hardly stupid, so he must know that was well outside of the safe zone for humans. They had never talked about the Samson braids, but Var had been alone with Clark for a few minutes, so Whitney finally concluded Clark must have mentioned them.

"Yeah, I think I am good with that. How about you, Hank?" responded Whitney. But when he turned to look at Indy, he found the man was already heading to the grav-shaft leading to the lower levels and their intended exit point. Well, I guess that answers my question, thought Whitney, as he turned to follow the other man's lead.

It took only seconds for Whitney to reach the grav-shaft. He stepped off the edge into nothingness without even thinking about it. Looking down past his feet, he experienced a moment of vertigo as he saw Indy floating gently down the shaft below him. When he had traveled up this amazing shaft earlier, it had seemed like a game. But now he couldn't get the image of the two great ships shooting at each other out of his head. When they reached bottom the shaft this time, they would be stepping straight into a battle zone.

By the time he reached the bottom of the shaft and then walked down the corridor to doorway through which he had entered this ship less than two hours earlier, Whitney could feel his fear really start to climb. He had thought the scariest moment in his life, at least that he could remember since both of his 'deaths' were pretty vague, had been during the destruction of the chateau when the ballroom had started to collapse and Clark had pushed him out into freefall. But then, things had happened so fast he hadn't had time to think about it. Now, he found he had too much time to think. And it just made things worse.

Just has Indy and he reached the external doorway, Whitney almost jumped out of his skin as Clark seemed to materialize out of nowhere, as he seemed to do more and more often lately.

"Geez, Clark, are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

Clark looked at Whitney and shrugged a small apology.

Var must have been monitoring their progress because immediately his voice came over the intercom system. "Clark, I am beginning the run to drop Whitney and Henry off. Next to the large red button which opens the door is another switch. Flip it first as it will prevent the gangway from deploying. Then press the red button."

Clark did as he was directed and the heavy metallic door slid slowly open. A blast of frigid air swept in through the opening. It might be mid-summer in Berlin, but it didn't feeling it here on the Baltic Sea. Fortunately, Whitney found the bracing air refreshing; it seemed to calm him and helped to drive the fear back from the forefront of his thoughts.

Getting a firm grip with his right hand, Whitney leaned a little ways out the open door. They were now less than three hundred feet above the water and steadily descending. The blast of air had been startling, but it was apparent their forward speed was less than thirty miles an hour.

Leaning out a little further, Whitney could see their target. They were making a head-on approach to the battleship. The battleship was still traveling at high speed and Whitney had expected Var to make a stern approach. But from the masses of smoke still pouring from its stern, he realized that would have been impossible. However with this head-on maneuver they were only going to get one short shot at hitting their target. And from the way the ship's wake was all twists and turns, Var had better be a great pilot, too.

Whitney leaned back in, turned, and then shouted to be heard. "About ten seconds. Indy, ahh, I mean Hank, get ready. We are only going to have one shot at this."

Indy gave him a questioning look about the 'Indy' comment, but then nodded his head.

Clark reached out his hand to Whitney. "Good luck. Get Lana to safety."

Whitney took Clark's hand and nodded his head.

Clark turned to shake Indy's hand as Whitney leaned back out the door.

They were much closer now. Var had slowed their forward velocity until it felt like they were standing still in mid-air and the great battleship was about to pass directly below them. The vertical drop to the battleship's deck might only be forty feet, but it suddenly seemed more like four hundred.

'You can do this,' thought Whitney to himself. He had seen the Nazis do incredible things while wearing the Samson braid and he could feel its power coursing through him. 'You CAN do this.'

Whitney reached back and grabbed Indy's arm pulling him into the opening. Then, without any further hesitation, he leapt out of the open doorway.

For a moment it felt just like traveling down the grav-shaft. Then the battleship seemed to come rushing up towards him and the sense of floating was replaced with a strong sense of falling.

A scream was just starting to escape his throat when his feet contacted the wood planked deck. His legs automatically flexed until he came to a stop crouched down with one stabilizing hand resting on the deck. A flicker of motion in his peripheral vision showed Indy landing six feet to his right. The older man executed a roll at impact like Whitney had seen used by paratroopers in many old war movies. It looked like Indy had been through situations like this before.

With the Samson braid the roll may not have been necessary, but it didn't slow Indy down. Somehow as Whitney watched, the other man went straight from the roll to a run heading aft. Without thinking anymore about his fear, Whitney sprinted after him.

They had landed on the long, extended forward deck of the battleship. Quickly their path took them towards the first mighty pair of guns. At this moment this pair of guns was in the process of swiveling to the starboard in the general direction of their nemesis. Whitney spared a glance in that direction and saw the brilliant red flying ship hovering about three thousand feet away and maybe two thousand feet up in the air. Before he had a chance to spot where Var's ship had gone, Indy reached a heavy door, ripped it open, and disappeared inside.

Whitney knew the time for sightseeing was over. Lana might be trapped somewhere beyond that door. Quickly, Whitney followed Indy into the dark interior of the ship.

As soon as he passed through the door, it was like going from day to night. All of the primary lighting was out in at least this part of the ship. The only illumination was provided by red emergency lights spaced out about every twelve feet.

Indy was only about fifteen feet ahead of him, but in the maze-like interior of the battleship even this was almost enough to end up with them getting separated. After one particularly abrupt left turn followed by an immediate descent down a steep ladder, Whitney finally called out for Indy to pause a moment to let him catch up.

Indy did pause and Whitney quickly overtook him. Whitney was about to ask him if his brisk pace meant he really knew where he was going when they heard voices approaching from the blind right corner just in front of them. Whitney was psyching himself up for a fight when Indy suddenly motioned for Whitney to step behind him. Then as Whitney watched, Indy turned to face in the direction of the voices and stiffened into an 'At Attention' pose. Whitney wasn't certain of the plan, but decided to mimic Indy's posture. As he stood there frozen in place, he realized if he hadn't taken this detour back in time, he might have been in this pose anyway as part of his upcoming Marine training. For a moment the absurdity of his current situation almost brought a smile to his lips. How many of his fellow Marine recruits would be able to truthfully say they had combat experience against Nazi soldiers?

A squad of five sailors, two armed with rifles, rounded the corner right in front of Indy. They all froze in their tracks at the unexpected appearance of two officers blocking the corridor. Two Luftwaffe officers, no less. Before they could overcome their surprise, Indy started addressing them in loud, forceful German. Whitney didn't understand a word of what Indy was saying, but tried to be supportive by maintaining his most menacing stare. Indy's tirade went on for at least fifteen seconds before he paused for breath. Immediately one of the sailors filled the void by pointing in the direction from which they had just come and rolling out his own long response in German. Whitney might not understand this man's words either, but he could tell the man's tone of voice was much more respectful then the one Indy had been using.

The sailor couldn't have spoken for more than seven or eight seconds when Indy cut him off with a curt 'Danke' and started to push past him. Quickly, the sailors all flatten themselves against the wall and Indy strode imperiously passed them. Whitney followed Indy doing the best he could to maintain a hard expression on his face. As soon as they were past the sailors, his back started to itch as he imagined the sailors penetrating their ruse and deciding to shoot him in the back. It wasn't until the corridor made another turn that he allowed his shoulders to sag just a little.

"What was that conversation about?" whispered Whitney.

"I merely explained we had urgent business with the captain and asked the quickest route. The sailor was kind enough to point us in the direction of the bridge."

"All of that was just for directions to the bridge?"

"For my part, yes. Of course, I did flower it up a little for their benefit. However the sailor was kind enough to include a warning to be on the lookout for several renegade Gestapo men. Two bits says one of those 'renegade' Gestapo men is my old buddy, Major Biberach."

Whitney nodded as he tried to remember what 'two bits' would have meant back in Indy's era. It didn't seem like it had anything to do with computer bits.

- - + - - + - - +

They proceeded on their way for another five minutes and Indy managed to bluff them past two more groups of sailors. But then their luck ran out and the next group of six sailors they met didn't believe what Indy said or perhaps word of the two mysterious German air force officers had filtered ahead. Either way, this next group of men wasn't going to let them by without a fight.

Whitney took a quick glance at their surroundings and thought at least they had space to move. They were passing through what he guessed was an officers' wardroom. At least the room had several tables, lots of chairs, racks of magazines and newspapers, and a large coffeemaker mounted to one wall.

Like the earlier parties, two of these men were armed with rifles. When it became obvious where this was heading, Indy took a step forward and to the side to get closer to the men with guns, as they would have to be taken out first. Whitney was just stepping forward when Indy made his move.

Indy threw a fast, hard jab at the nearest man with a gun. The blow didn't knock the man to the floor as would be expected, but sent him sailing across the room to crash into the opposite wall nearly twenty feet away.

As the comrades of Indy's first victim watched in surprise, Whitney lowered his shoulder and charged the four in front of him just the way Coach Arnold was always trying to pound into the thick skulls of his linemen. And he knew his old coach would have been proud of his effort. Well, he would have been proud if he was still alive and hadn't mysteriously burned to death in the locker room during what was supposed to be his big 200th win. Just for a second, Whitney wondered what Clark knew about the coach's death. During their train ride to Dresden to see Chloe, Clark had explained his involvement with several of the other strange deaths in Smallville during the past year. So perhaps he knew something about this, too.

Forcing his attention back to the current situation; Whitney spread his arms trying to force all of his opponents back. He managed to keep three of them moving until he slammed them into the wall. It wasn't until he heard the sickening sound of multiple bones snapping that his true strength while wearing the braid really sank in. Fighting these men suddenly wasn't like some football game, nor was beating up a bunch of lowly sailors, who were just doing their jobs, nearly as fun or satisfying as he had imagined. These were real people he was hurting and, if he wasn't careful, maybe even killing. Was he really ready to do that?

As he stepped back from wall, he could see all the fight was gone from these three. Turning, he saw Indy had taken out both of the men with rifles and was holding the last man clear of the floor with a hand around his throat. Indy was just starting to interrogate the man when Whitney caught, out of the corner of his eye, motion in the doorway at the far side of the room.

Swiveling his head, he was just in time to see the two men in black from the Marion's hotel room back in Berlin take two steps into the room before freezing in shock when they saw and recognized him. Before either of them moved, a short, skinny man in a Gestapo uniform followed them in with his left hand firmly grasping Marion Jones' upper arm. He, too, frozen upon finding Whitney and Indy in the room.

Ultimately, it was Marion who broke the silence by excitedly shouting, "Hank!"

+ - - - +

Christoph Frenkel was leading their small party towards the bridge when they all heard the sounds of men fighting up ahead. Quickly Wolfgang Hein forced his way past Major Biberach and Mrs. Jones to join him. If there was going to be trouble, they would be able to handle it faster working as a team.

When Hein nodded he was ready, they quickly slide through the open doorway together. Frenkel could only speculate on what they would find, who would be fighting in this room. It had to be either men still loyal to the Fatherland fighting against the girl's subjugated minions or else whoever it was that had responded to their emergency call had managed to get men on board this ship. Either way, they might find allies in their battle against the girl in this room. Hopefully, if the silence meant the fighting was over, their new allies would have been the winners. But, if not, he and Hein would take carry of any opposition like they had done before.

So, hoping for the best, but with confidence in his strength and abilities, Frenkel stepped into the room and received the shock of his life. Standing before him wearing a German Luftwaffe uniform was the kid Major Biberach had killed back at the chateau. And the kid hadn't suffered a single bullet wound from which he might have recovered. No, Frenkel still had a vivid memory of how the boy's body had jerked and twisted as round after round from the MP-40 found their mark and particularly of how the final three rounds had slammed straight into the face of the already dying youth.

So, how could the kid show up here, in the middle of the fucking ocean, without a mark on him? First, the girl does the impossible and gains control of a ship filled with thousands of loyal German sailors and now out of nowhere a dead man shows up in their midst. What in the fucking hell had they gotten mixed up in?

Frenkel felt Hein step up beside him and then Hein, too, froze in recognition. It was just registering that the other man in the German Air Force officer's uniform was Dr. Henry Jones, who he had also last seen at the chateau, when Major Biberach and Mrs. Jones followed them into the room.

The shorter Biberach had just edged between his two guards to see why they had paused when the taller woman called out with a startled, "Hank!"

+ - - +

Marion was just as surprised as the Germans, who were holding her prisoner, to discover her husband was aboard the Hitler. Although she quickly realized what had shocked them the most was not Hank, but the presence of Lana's friend, Whitney. When Lana had first told her that Whitney was still alive, she had had a hard time believing the girl. But after all of the other things she had experienced in the past few days, finding the boy here, healthy and alive, wasn't the shock it might have been.

But to Marion, the boy's presence was hardly worthy of note; her full attention was focused on her husband. Since they had made their escape from the secret Nazi base on the remote Greek island during the adventure to acquire the Ark, this had been their longest separation. And during the past few hours, she had really started to become afraid she wouldn't survive this voyage. Or if she physically survived, it would only be to serve the machinations of the girl and she no longer was convinced the girl wouldn't do to her mind what she had already done to the minds of so many of the crew.

Therefore she had such a profound sense of relief at her husband's unexpected arrival; she couldn't help but shout his name.

"Hank!"

Hank had been facing away from her, but at the sound of her voice he released the man he had been holding and quickly spun around. As soon as he saw her, a wide smile graced his face and he started moving across the room.

"Are you okay, Marion?" Hank asked, pausing five feet from where Hein and Frenkel stood blocking his approach.

"Yeah, I have been enjoying this idyllic ocean cruise. How about you? I see you have been recruited into the German military again," she continued with a glance down at his gray uniform. It was amazing how just his presence lightened her mood.

Hank followed her glance and then, as his eyes returned to her, he shrugged. "You know me, I like to blend in."

Marion felt a small chuckle escaping her lips. "Ah, I think a naval officer's uniform might have been a more logical choice."

"Well, I was at an air force installation thirty minutes ago working on a ride, if that helps."

Then Marion watched as Hank turned his attention to Hein, who was standing most directly between himself and his wife.

"I don't know what happened to your eye, Hein, but if you don't want to lose the other one, I suggest you get out of my way."

Marion didn't know how Hank knew the man's name, but decided they must have crossed paths after Hank had first disappeared and before she had arrived at the chateau.

From the pasty, white appearance of Hein's face and the way he had continued to stare at Whitney until his own name was mentioned, it was like he was looking at a ghost. But at his name, he turned towards Hank and some of his old arrogance returned.

"Dr. Jones, I don't know how you got here, but things are going to go just like the last time we met."

Hank simply smiled.

Hein took a quick step forward and threw a solid right hook to Indy's jaw. Whenever he had connected with a blow like this since receiving his braid, his opponent had always gone sailing across the room as a result. But this time the only effect was to spin Jones' head to the side.

Marion had seen Hein's incredible strength and had felt her heart freeze when the man swung at Hank. She didn't know how Hank withstood the blow, but numbly watched as he turned back working his lower jaw as though checking for any damage.

Hein, too, was staring at Hank in disbelief at the man's ability to absorb the supposedly unstoppable punch.

Abruptly he saw Jones break into a grin.

"Is that the best you got, Hein?" asked Hank.

Then, before the man could respond, Hank grabbed the front of his shirt before collapsing backwards to the floor, dragging the other man down with him. As he fell, Hank drew his knees up to his chest and positioned his feet against Hein's chest. Rocking back onto his shoulders, Hank used the strength of his legs to send Hein flying back across the length of the room away from where Marion and the others stood. Hein hit the wall so hard the entire room seemed to shake and the two-inch thick steel wall bent almost three inches. Even Hein's enhanced body couldn't quickly shake off a below of that force and he slumped to the floor momentarily stunned into unconsciousness.

Marion stared at Hank in surprise as he climbed back to his feet. She had no idea how Hein and Frenkel had gained their incredible strength. But obviously Hank had not only figured it out; he had also learned how to duplicate it, too.

Frenkel and Biberach had been caught off guard by Hank's exhibition, too. They were staring at where Hein lay crumpled on the floor and didn't notice Whitney's approach until he was almost upon them. As one, they turned their heads in his direction.

Whitney paused just out of reach and shot a quick glance at Indy. "Hank, it hardly seems fair that you get to have all of the fun. I mean, they only tortured you. I am the one they killed."

Indy said, "Sorry," and then made a show of taking half a step back.

Whitney turned back towards Frenkel, gave a small nod, and raised his fists into a semblance of boxer's pose. The injuries he had caused to the three men he had just fought still bothered him, but this was different. The man standing before him had the same Samson braid enhanced strength he did and he had apparently been present at Whitney's earlier death. No, Whitney knew he wouldn't have any problem with his conscience, if he pounded this man to a pulp.

Whitney watched as his opponent returned the nod and raised his own hands. Then, faster than Whitney thought was humanly possible; Frenkel threw a fast jab with his left fist. The punch caught Whitney on the side of the face and he staggered back a couple of paces.

He shook his head to clear it and realized he felt very little pain. Apparently, the braid did more than just enhance his strength.

Quickly, Whitney stepped forward and threw a strong punch with his right hand, but Frenkel brought up his arm to absorb most of the blow.

Immediately, Whitney followed up with a blow to the man's ribs with his left hand, but it felt like he was hitting solid stone. Then before Whitney could step clear, Frenkel delivered a quick series of punches to the boy's abdomen.

They continued to exchange another group of blows to the body with Frenkel connecting more often than Whitney. It was quickly apparent to Frenkel that the kid and Jones had somewhere acquired several of the other braids. It was also obvious he was a better, more experienced fighter than the kid. But the braids seemed to enhance every wearer by the same percent and the kid looked to out weigh him by at least twenty-five kilos and all of it was muscle. If he couldn't beat him soon, the kid's size and weight might be the deciding factor.

Whitney managed to break free from the other man for a moment. His body was sending faint signals of pain from where his opponent had landed blows, but it was barely any more of an annoyance than the blood dripping from his broken nose. He was breathing hard and trying to formulate some sort of a strategy. He found himself wishing that he had taken some martial arts training, or maybe even better, wishing this whole thing had happened after his stint in the Marines. Certainly, they would have provided him the means to quickly take out an opponent, braids or no braids.

But wishing for fighting skills he didn't have wasn't going to do him any good. No, he was going to have to make do with what he knew and that pretty much boiled down to football.

Whitney stepped forward and threw a couple of quick punches to keep his opponent off guard as he tried to figure out how football was going to help him win this battle. Nothing in his repertoire as a quarterback seemed immediately useful, as his assignment on the field was to avoid being hit, not to deliver blows. Of course, thinking about avoiding getting hit brought back the painful memories of his biggest failure on that account – the clipping incident which had blown out the Meniscus cartilage in his right knee. It had left him rolling around on the turf in extreme agony with his knee bending forward rather than back. The emergency surgery and two follow-up operations had restored most of his mobility, but the injury's aftermath had ultimately cost him his college scholarship. It wasn't until Lana had introduced her 'bots into his body after the tornado back in Smallville that his knee had finally returned to one hundred percent.

Thinking about how that one illegal play had wrecked all of his plans for the future always got Whitney's blood boiling and this time was no exception. When his opponent threw his next punch, Whitney grabbed the extended arm and threw the man to the side. Frenkel flew a short ten feet through the air until he collided with the nearest wall.

The throw hadn't been nearly as hard as the blow Indy had delivered to Hein, but it was sufficient to distract Frenkel for a couple of seconds as he fought to regain his balance. Just as he got his feet fully under himself, Whitney came diving in right at knee level. Everyone in the room, who was still conscious, heard the loud 'pop' as the cartilage in Frenkel's left knee exploded.

The blinding agony Frenkel felt was beyond anything he had ever imaged as he stared down to where his leg was bent completely backwards. It was said that the only thing more painful then a knee injury that a human could experience was childbirth. And as Frenkel collapsed to the floor and began to scream, he tried to imagine how much worse it could possible feel without the attenuating effects of the braid.

As Frenkel lay twisting in agony on the floor, he was almost grateful when Whitney finally managed to deliver a blow which knocked him into oblivion.

Whitney felt sick in his gut and was afraid he was going to hurl as he stood up from Frenkel's finally still form. It took all of his effort to look away from the man's obscenely twisted leg and turn his attention to the short man in the black uniform, who was still holding Marion's arm.

Whitney had no direct recollection of the man who had killed him back at the chateau as his memories of the last ten minutes before his death were lost forever. But since he knew his killer had departed with Marion and Lana and since this man was with Marion and the two men he did remember, he suspected they were one and the same. If this was the man who had gunned him down, he wanted to cause him a level of pain which would make what the man lying at his feet was feeling seem downright pleasant in comparison. But there were more important matters than his personal need for revenge.

Looking the Gestapo officer in the eye, Whitney said, almost at a growl. "Where the FUCK is my girlfriend?"

Biberach's eyes darted from one of his suddenly unconscious champions to the other. How could they have been defeated so completely? Then he remembered the comment from Captain Hoffman which had instigated his hasty departure from the chateau. Hoffman had said a man was down in the dungeon battling Schultz and Jaeger, the two other men at the chateau with the braids, and that man appeared to be winning. If the man had ultimately defeated Schultz and Jaeger, then he must have given their braids to Jones and this boy. Well, that would explain how they had the strength to defeat Hein and Frenkel, even if it didn't explain how the boy could be suddenly alive and well after taking a full clip from the sub-machine gun.

Thinking about the events from the ballroom at the chateau reminded Biberach of how he had gotten away from the tense situation there – by putting his gun to Marion Jones' head. After seeing Frenkel suffer a wound earlier from a bullet which had ricocheted from the thick walls of this ship, he had kept his own pistol holstered and had depended on Hein and Frenkel to handle any opposition. But now his hand went to the heavy black leather flap which covered the handle of the gun and kept it in place.

Marion felt Biberach's abrupt movement and knew he was going for his gun. She wasn't ready to have it thrust back against her temple or worst, used on her husband. She still didn't understand how Hank and Whitney had been able to defeat Biberach's incredibly strong henchmen, but she wasn't about to see of they could survive being shot either.

Marion had tried to act the part of a lady since she had reconnected with Henry Jones, but now she unleashed the inner strength which had kept her alive in Tibet during the terrible years after her father's death.

"Not again, you asshole," Marion whispered fiercely into Biberach's ear as she pivoted around in his grip. Then before he could react, she cocked back her free fist and slammed it into his face with all of the pent up fury the last few days had created.

The little man crashed back into the heavy door frame behind him and Marion heard the satisfying crunch as his head made hard contact. She watched in satisfaction as his limp body slid down to a sitting position before slumping to one side. The single blow she had landed hadn't fully vented her rage so with a muttered 'motherfucker' in Tibetan Gtsang dialect she kicked him in the kidneys with every ounce of her strength. His body jerked in a most satisfying way, but otherwise the unconscious Biberach gave no response.

When Marion looked up from his body and swept her eyes towards Hank, she expected to find him racing over to sweep her up into his arms. But instead he was racing over to where Hein still lay against the far wall.

As Hank ran, he shouted over his shoulder, "Whitney, get his braid."

'Get his braid?' repeated Marion in her head as she began walking over to where her husband was now busily ripping at his opponent's shirt.

By the time she reached him and rested a hand on Hank's shoulder she could see the exposed rope of brown hair wrapped around Hein's waist. As she watched, Hank quickly worked the braid free and then rose to his feet.

Marion went to throw her arms around her husband, but he stopped her with a raised hand.

"Marion, get this around your waist under your blouse first."

Marion glanced down at the braid in Hank's hand and then back up into Hank's eyes.

"Samson's hair," was all Hank said, as though that was enough.

And as she reached out and touched the braid and instantly felt the strength and power begin to course through her body, she realized those two words were explanation enough.

Quickly Marion pulled the tails of her blouse out of her skirt and worked to wrap the braid securely about her waist. She had just finished tucking her blouse back in when Whitney walked up with another braid dangling from his hand.

But at that moment Marion's full attention was on her husband and with the power of the Samson braid filling her, she literally leapt into Hank's arms. She gave him a powerful squeeze as she felt his arms wrap about her. She finally felt happy and safe for the first time in days.

"Ah, Marion, dear," gasped Hank. "Are you trying to kill me?"

Marion recognized the playful tone in his voice and knew he was only kidding. "No, dear, but I am so glad to finally be back in your arms. You have no idea what I have been through. Now, shut up and kiss me."

Hank didn't need to be asked twice, as he lowered his face to her upturned lips.

Whitney tried to wait patiently, but after the kiss seemed to have gone on for at least a minute, he finally couldn't stop himself from interrupting.

"Marion, where is Lana?"

After about five more seconds Marion ended the kiss and then disentangled herself from Hank's arms. Quickly she turned and gave Whitney a hug. "Lana said you were okay, but after seeing your body lying on that floor shot full of holes, it is still hard to believe."

Whitney returned the hug for a moment before repeating the single word which was burning in his heart, "Lana?"

From the doorway on the far side of the room he suddenly heard the achingly familiar voice.

"Did someone mention my name?"

Whitney looked over Marion's shoulder and saw Lana standing there dressed in a white German sailor's uniform. It was way too big with both the sleeves and the cuffs of the pants rolled up, but he couldn't careless about her attire. The important thing was that she was alive and well.

Before he could do anything but stare at her, Whitney felt Marion stiffen in his embrace.

As Marion pulled away from him, she tightened her grip on his hand to force his attention back to her. "Don't let her touch you," she said, trying to keep her voice low and calm.

Whitney gave her strange look like he had no idea what she was talking about. And of course, since he hadn't witnessed the events on this ship during the past twenty-four hours, how could he? He would assume the girl running across the room towards them was the same girl who had been with him back at the chateau.

Therefore Marion couldn't do anything but stare with dread as Whitney turned and swept the girl up into his arms. A feeling that only grew more intense as the girl looked past Whitney's shoulder at her with the most malevolent stare Marion had ever experienced. Marion could do nothing but shrink back into Hank's welcoming, but unsuspecting embrace.

End of Chapter 18

+ - - + - + - +

Author's Notes

Whew, that has been intense. I may have to take a few days off before starting work on the remainder of the climax. What is going to happen to Whitney now that he is in Sliviuh's clutches? How is Clark going to stop the giant flying German juggernaut? So much is left to write!

On to other things - Based on the recent comments fanfiction has put on their homepage, they seemed to be serious about not allowing individual replies to reader reviews within the chapters. I will give their new 'reply' feature a try, but at least for now, I plan to also copy my responses to the link on my author's page. I, for one, find the exchange of ideas with the readers useful and I think my responses may be of interest to more than just the specific reviewer. Generally, if a reviewer makes a comment about something in the story not being clear, I try to work something into the next chapter or two to make things clearer for all the readers. But lots of time people ask questions about where the story is going that I don't intend to address until months or years downstream, so the only answer I give is in the reviewer response. So if you are interested in where I intend to take this story long-term, you might want to read the reviewer feedback section. (Or if you are not a registered member of the site – and why not since it is free? – my reviewer feedback section is my only remaining route to give you a response.)

Have a great day!

Duane


	19. Biological Families Chapter 19

6/25/06

Biological Families

Chapter 19

Part 1

As Marion continued to watch, the malevolent look faded from the girl's face to be replaced with the blank expression Marion had come to associate with Laura's use of her gift to subjugate the crew's minds. God, if Laura was doing that to her own boyfriend, or Lana's boyfriend, or Lana's former boyfriend, or whatever term defined her current relationship with Whitney, would Hank and she be next?

Marion felt shivers, no, tremors start to ripple through her body and knew it was not from the just concluded fight with Biberach and his men. Hank apparently noticed her reaction too, as he quickly stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her once more.

"Mar, everything is going to be okay. I'm here now. The worst is over."

Marion knew the worst might not be over; it might not have even begun. Too afraid to turn her gaze away from the girl, she leaned her head back and whispered as quietly as she could, hoping only Hank could hear, "Please, Hank, you mustn't let her touch me. I think you are safe since you haven't shared blood, but if she touches me, she will take my mind."

Hank's hands momentarily tightened about Marion. What was she talking about? He had thought their problems were all over. Oh, they still needed to find a way off of the ship, but they had found the women which was the most important thing.

"What?" whispered Hank keeping his own voice low to match Marion's. They had been through a lot of tough, dangerous situations together and he instinctively trusted her judgment on the need for conversing at a whisper.

"I don't know exactly how she does it, but she can enslave the mind of anyone with whom she has shared blood. In the last twenty-four hours she has gained control over most of the crew, certainly all of the key officers. But I think the process is driving her mad."

"MAD?" mocked the girl.

Marion couldn't suppress the small gasp as she realized the girl had overheard the whispered remark. Laura's eyes still retained their generally vacant expression, as though most of her attention was still focused elsewhere, but the corners of her mouth lifted into a cruel smile.

"You really shouldn't talk about me in my presence as though I can't hear. My hearing may not be much better than you mortals, but lip-reading is no big challenge."

"Mortals?" echoed Hank in confusion.

Suddenly, the girl released the embrace in which she had been holding Whitney and took a half step back. In immediate response Whitney dropped to one knee and raised his right hand; offering the braid he had stripped from Frenkel. "For you, my Goddess."

As Hank and Marion watched the dark-haired girl accept the gift of power, they couldn't help but notice the expression of complete adoration on Whitney's face. Marion had never seen its like before arriving on the ship, but Hank was quickly reminded of the expressions on the faces of the followers of Mola Ram after they had drunk 'the blood of Kali Ma' as part of the Thuggee ceremonies back in India. Hank couldn't help but wonder at the coincidence of Marion mentioning the sharing of blood and the Thuggees' drinking of blood. Was there some connection?

A low moan escaped from Biberach where he lay slumped by the door. However neither Marion nor Hank reacted as they continued to watch Whitney and the girl. After the girl accepted the Samson braid and wound it around her right forearm, Whitney reached into his pant's pocket and pulled out his silver communication device, again offering it to the girl.

Once she had the device in her hand, she quickly strode over to the wall mounted inter-ship phone. Jabbing a button as she lifted the handset, she brusquely spoke in German, "Get me Captain Koenig."

After a pause of no more than five seconds, she continued, "Captain, execute Code Omega immediately."

Hank couldn't be certain what 'Code Omega' was, but omega was the last letter of the Greek alphabet. And from his few encounters with various military organizations around the world, it seemed to be invariably associated with some final, desperate, 'take your enemies with you' death spasm. What had the girl just set in motion?

However before Hank could follow through on that thought, his attention was drawn back to the girl by her slamming of the receiver back into its receptacle. She had just started to turn back towards them when the first pistol shot rang out.

Marion gasped as Laura's body was thrown forward hard against the bulkhead and a bloom of crimson red flowered on the back of her borrowed white sailor's uniform just below the left shoulder blade. She expected the girl to drop to the floor, but after only a moment, she watched Laura press herself back upright.

While Marion was frozen in place watching Laura, Hank and Whitney had both moved towards Biberach, the only person in the room armed with a pistol. When Marion finally wrenched her head around to look towards Biberach, she found Whitney in the middle of an impossibly long, flat dive towards the Nazi. Then, as she watched in horror, the gun went off a second time, its bullet catching Whitney in the stomach. The boy seemed to crumple in mid-air and collapsed to the ground ten feet short of his goal.

Then Hank too launched himself towards the German. Several more shots rang out, but they missed their mark and began ricocheting off the hard metal walls of the compartment. Marion dove to the floor after a seemingly narrow miss by one of the careening projectiles. As she lay there, she was forced to watch helplessly as her husband ended his mad rush on top of the Gestapo officer. Was he about to become a victim like Laura and Whitney?

Hank landed on top of Biberach; his two hundred pound frame seeming to crush the air out of the much smaller man's lungs. The shock of the impact caused the Nazi's hand to spasm and one more round went off just as Hank's hand closed on the other man's wrist. In a moment, Hank's braid-enhanced grip crushed the bones in the wrist and the gun flew out of Biberach's hand. As the gun went skittering and clattering across the deck and before the last echo of the final ricochet had died away, Hank was already scanning the room for Marion. Had any of the wild shots hit her?

From her prone position, Marion too was scanning the room as though her eyes were fast enough to follow a bullet's trajectory. Therefore both of them happened to be looking at Laura within moments of the final round's impact. Laura had turned once more to face the room and they could see the ugly results where the initial bullet had exited through her chest. The three inch diameter circle of blood adorning the back of her sailor's blouse was dwarfed by the six inch hole below her right breast. Through the ragged opening they could even make out the broken white edges of several exposed ribs. Hank couldn't understand how the girl could still be on her feet with a wound of that magnitude by a bullet which surely had taken out a large portion of her lung on its passage from back to front.

But the mortality of the first wound was no where near as certain as the second randomly aimed shot. No, the second shot had caught the girl a glancing blow in the throat. Hardly a quarter inch deep, but it had severed the carotid artery. The stream of blood, which geysered from her throat, sprayed a pattern on the wall reaching almost five feet above her head. With the next beat of her heart a second stream began to follow the first when the girl slapped a hand to her throat. The flow seemed to be reduced to a mere trickle through her fingers, but Hank knew it didn't matter. He had seen wounds like that before and within seconds the heart would pump out the body's entire supply of blood.

However the girl didn't collapse to the deck from shock or blood loss, but continued to walk to where Hank lay prone on top of the Nazi. When she reached them, she squatted down, pulled her hand away from her throat, and smeared its coating of blood across Biberach's face. This seemed to suddenly revitalize the man as he began to thrash violently in an attempt to throw off the large American.

"Tsk, tsk," began the girl, her voice calm and steady. "Biberach, you should have surrendered to me when you had the chance. It is not very smart to fuck with a God. I could have made all your wildest dreams come true, but, no, you had to keep trying to kill me. So, I think you have earned an eternity in your own personal hell instead."

From his position on top of the German, Hank's face was less than six inches from the girl's throat. It was coated with blood, but no additional blood continued to spurt or even gurgle from the neck wound. In fact, the skin looked almost unblemished. Then he glanced down at the gaping hole in her lower chest and could see the hole getting visibly smaller as he watched. What the fuck? He had seen Whitney coated with blood back at the chateau, but hadn't fully comprehended the magnitude of his wounds or the miraculous rate at which the healing had occurred. But now it was happening right in front of his face. Who was this girl? She couldn't possibly be a god like she claimed, but how was the healing he witnessed possible? It was like watching his father recover from the gunshot wound back in Palestine, but that had involved the Grail Cup. How could this girl achieve the same effect? Did she possess some other long lost relic?

For just a second or two his and Mar's desperate situation was brushed from the forethoughts of his mind by the memory of the adventure with his Dad in search of the Grail Cup three years earlier. It had ended so badly with Elisa dead and his father nearly killed. But some good had come of it, too; he and his father had at last talked and gotten some of the things out in the open which had separated them for so long. Oh, they weren't yet best friends, and might never be, but at least they were now talking.

And one of the things he now wanted to talk to his father about was Marion, whom Henry Senior hadn't yet met. When he and Marion had first gotten together back in college, he and his father had been going through one of their extended periods of estrangement. During the past four months since Marion had re-entered his life, his father had been in Rome working with the Papal Legate in charge of the Church's Antiquities Department on some 'top secret' project. Hank had warned his father against getting involved with relics again, but suddenly, being in the middle of his own third encounter with a biblical relic, it was like the pot calling the kettle black.

However on more mundane topics, he had at least sent a telegram to his father informing him of his marriage to Marion. When they had first arrived in Paris, he had hoped to make a side trip down to Rome to introduce his father to his bride, but that was before encountering Samson braids, secret Nazi battleships, alien spaceships, or a girl who could miraculously heal. Now, he was reduced to merely hoping to get Marion and himself home alive.

His ruminations about his father were interrupted by a massive explosion which shook the Hitler far worse than any of the hits by Germany's flying dreadnought. The deck on which he was sprawled felt like it heaved straight up at least twenty feet. If not for the effect of the Samson braid he was wearing, he was certain the shock would have killed him. Then, when the deck settled back down, it had taken on an alarming twenty degree list to port.

When he looked up, he found the girl had been thrown from her feet. Looking passed her, his eyes finally found Marion still prone on the deck, but at least twenty feet from where he had last seen her.

The girl was quickly back on her feet and once more looking down at where Biberach still lay pinned under Hank's body.

"Well, lucky for you, Biberach, at least Captain Koenig can follow orders," she began. "Now, it looks like you get a simple death rather than an eternity in hell."

Then she turned and swept her gaze around the room. Quickly, she moved over to a cleared area, raised Whitney's communicator to her lips, and said, "Back to the future."

Over the roar of secondary explosions, a quiet seemed to fall over the compartment as an eerie green glow appeared on the wall in front of the girl. In seconds the shape began to coalesce into a doorway.

As Hank continued to watch the girl, Marion scrambled across the heaving deck to where Whitney lay half under an overturned table. When she reached him she found him curled into a tight ball with his hands clenched to his stomach as though to staunch the steadily flowing blood. Feeling along his throat for his pulse, she found his skin cold and clammy. His pulse was so faint it took her several seconds to find it.

Looking up, Marion saw the same green doorway from the memories she had shared with Lana when the girl had first infected her. She instantly knew it was the time machine and that Laura intended to pass through and leave them behind.

"Laura," screamed Marion. "Whitney is dying. You have to save him."

The girl looked back over her shoulder. "Don't you get it yet, Marion? Laura is gone, just like Lana. Why should I care about this one mortal?"

What did she mean 'Laura is gone' wondered Marion. If the girl standing there no longer thought she was Lana or Laura, then who was she now? Remembering the strange encounter in Jaguar City and some of the other things the girl had mentioned, Marion could conjure up some very scary alternate personalities for the girl. And certainly her current derogatory use of the term 'mortals' and self-reference as a God was not something she would have expected from the Lana personality or even Laura, but it was consistent with some new, different, power-mad incarnation.

But confronting the girl about her change didn't seem to be an approach which would cause her to stop and help Whitney. No, to get the girl's help she would have to try and reach her emotional rather than logical side.

"He loves you," answered Marion carefully sweeping the hair back from Whitney's forehead to ensure the girl could see his pain-filled eyes.

"What is the love of one man against the adoration of millions where I am going?" The girl responded with a look that told Marion she wanted power more than love. And Marion knew Whitney's salvation, if there was to be one, would have to come from some other source.

As the girl turned back towards the almost completely formed portal, Marion could sense Hank was getting ready to try to stop her.

"Hank, don't," Marion said sharply, as her thoughts were forced from Whitney to the need to protect her own husband. He hadn't been through the past two days with her and the girl and therefore didn't have a clue of the girl's abilities.

When Hank looked at her questioningly, she continued. "She's too powerful; you don't stand a chance against her. I watched her take out Hein in a fight when she didn't even have one of the braids herself. And you have seen how she heals; she can fight and heal and continue to fight until you make a mistake and lose. You have to let her go."

Thoughts of his father must have been still playing heavily in his mind, because he was reminded of his father telling him almost the same thing as he hung dangling over the precipice trying to reach the cup.

He was just beginning to scramble over to help Marion with Whitney when he saw the girl, whom Marion had strangely called 'Laura', step through the green doorway which had formed in front of a blank section of wall. Less than two seconds later another massive explosion ripped through the Hitler and the twenty degree list to port quickly became thirty, forty-five, seventy, ninety-five, one hundred thirty, and finally one hundred eighty degrees as Hank realized the 'Omega Code' must have meant firing the ship's scuttling charges.

It felt like they had barely been thrown from the floor to the ceiling when they, along with all the other bodies and furniture, began sliding faster and faster towards the forward end of the compartment. With an agonizing series of creaks and groans, the ship's stern lifted from the water and rose until the massive eight hundred foot long ship was vertical and its giant rudder was over a hundred fifty feet in the air. But the Hitler was no Titanic, even with the whole bottom of the hull blown out the mighty ship did not break in two. Rather, it seemed to hang in space for several long seconds. Then, with a mighty whoosh of escaping air, the stricken ship began its deadly race down to the murky depths.

Hank instantly knew there was no longer any hope of escaping on the captain's launch or even reaching a life raft. This room was deep in the heart of the great ship and they had at most seconds to make good any escape before the battleship's descent took them down to a crushing depth.

Hoping for one more miracle from Clark, Hank quickly pulled out the backup communication device Clark had given him and thumbed it on.

"Clark, this is Hank," he began, unable to keep his rising panic out of his voice. "We are trapped in the bowels of the battleship, its keel has been blown out, and it is rapidly sinking. Lana is gone, and Whitney has been shot and may be dying. We need help!"

Part 2

Clark leaned out of the lower main hatch of _Wegthor's Shadow _and watched Whitney and Hank drop to the fore deck of the battleship. Before their feet even made contact, Var was already accelerating his ship hard to get clear of the big guns.

Turning his gaze from the battleship below, Clark began sweeping the skies for the brilliant red flying dreadnought where his own personal mission lay. Almost immediately he picked it out, although it was his ability to 'sense' its drive rather than his eyes which first pinpointed its location.

The ship was located almost a mile away and one of the first things he noticed were clouds of grayish-white smoke exploding from the pair of guns in one of its lower nacelles. It had just fired on the battleship again and Whitney and Hank were completely exposed on its deck. And Lana and Marion were also somewhere down there. He could only hope they were together and Lana had been able to protect Marion during the previous bombardment.

But it was up to him to stop these projectiles and protect the men. Clark launched himself out of the doorway and transitioned into speed-mode flight in mid-air. Immediately he accelerated his body deep into speed-mode to give himself plenty of time to locate the shells.

The fifteen inch diameter shells were not easy to spot from a mile away even if they were effectively frozen in place. With a moment's thought, Clark decided the simplest way to locate them was to start from down at the battleship and fly a reverse trajectory towards the source. Quickly he swooped down and spotted Whitney and Hank frozen in mid-stride as they sprinted across the deck towards one of the hatches.

Relocating the flying behemoth, Clark swept through a tight turn and accelerated back up. He climbed almost two-thirds of the way to the hovering ship before he finally came upon the shells. They were moving on parallel paths, one about seventy feet further along than the other. And the fact that they were moving and not frozen in place surprised Clark. Oh, they weren't moving very fast, no, it felt about like a fast jog, but they were among the first things he had ever encountered that weren't completely frozen when he was in speed mode. It definitely showed how fast the shells would move in 'normal' time.

Clark decelerated until he was pacing the first one at distance of less than ten feet. He stared at it for a moment, taking in the dull brass sheen and the rifling marks along the sides which allowed the gun barrel to spin the projectile for added stability and accuracy. As he examined it, he considered his options for disposing of the pair. He was seriously tempted for a moment to return them to their sender by jamming them back up the barrels of the guns and then exploding them with his heat vision. But after a moment he threw out that option, as tempting as it was. No, his goal was to eliminate the ship, but not harm any more of the ship's crew than was absolutely necessary. And exploding a shell in the barrel of the gun sounded extremely risky.

He next considered using his heat vision to explode them where they were, but quickly rejected that solution, too. Simple physics said most of the debris from the explosion would follow the original trajectory and some of it would rain down on the battleship below. And if Whitney and Hank were still exposed on the deck, they could be hurt.

So, in the end, Clark did the simplest, safest, albeit least satisfying thing – He gave them a hard shove to change their trajectories to land safely in open water, well away from the battleship.

Once he was back on course to his target, he reminded himself of the plan. He was going to commandeer the ship and fly it back to Peenemunde. Once they were again over land, he was going to off-load the crew to safety and then overload the grav-drive as he flew it into the base. The resulting explosion, which would be the equivalent of a small tactical nuke, should destroy the ship and hopefully most of its design records, thereby preserving the timeline. In the meantime, Var was supposed to break into the base's communication network and issue an evacuation order which would minimize casualties on the ground.

To allow time for Var's message to work and the evacuation to happen, the ship was going to have to return slowly in 'normal-mode'. If he was going to be on its bridge, there was still a risk the guns would continue to fire on the battleship while they remained within range. Therefore Clark decided he needed to neutralize the big guns before he proceeded to the command deck.

In speed-mode he flew, in a small fraction of a second, several leisurely loops around the ship inspecting the big guns both with his regular and x-ray visions. The ship had a total of six large guns mounted in three pairs of two. One pair was located on top of the large central sphere. The other two pairs were located on the lower side of the main saucer section to the left and right of the central sphere. Looking closer at the lower pairs, he realized they were completely separate from the main hull and drive units. In fact, if the main structural bearing surface at the juncture with the main hull was severed, the guns and their housings could be removed as complete units.

Clark grinned to himself as he decided the best way to ensure the guns stopped shooting at the battleship below was to simply cut them off and drop them straight into the ocean. He quickly did a more thorough examination with his x-ray vision and counted twenty-two men who would have to be relocated from each of the gun mounts to other parts of the ship before he could begin work with his heat vision.

As he made one more loop around the ship to determine how to best remove the men from guns mounts, he surveyed the damage the ship had sustained from its duel with the naval ship. The most obvious was located on the bottom of the sphere. The bottom-most level was almost completely gone, as seen through the large gaping holes in its several foot thick steel hull. The deck above was also a complete shambles with twisted beams and shattered internal walls everywhere. And Clark's powerful vision couldn't help but see the mangled body parts strewn throughout the area. If only he had gotten here sooner, he thought with a shake of his head, perhaps he could have averted all of this pointless death.

Putting aside useless thoughts of 'might have beens', Clark landed among the wreckage of the second-to-lowest level of the central sphere. Remaining in speed-mode, he made his way over to one of those steeply inclined crosses between ladders and stairs found on military ships and climbed further into the interior of the great ship. After a few minutes of exploring he found a fairly large, mostly vacant galley area; the perfect place to stash the men from the gun turrets.

It was the matter of a small fraction of a second in 'real' time before Clark had relocated the gun crews and was back outside working on cutting away the lower gun mounts. From his perspective the work was slow going – two-foot thick battle-hardened steel was much tougher to burn through than the granite he had encountered in the bedrock below the chateau. It felt like hours before the last connection of the first gun mount was severed. But when he finally finished work on the second, he discovered the first one had fallen less than three feet. Being deep in 'speed mode' certainly had its advantages, thought Clark.

Turning his attention to the upper mount, he knew severing its connection to the ship wouldn't be sufficient; gravity would hold it in place. The two giant guns and their supporting structure must be many times the weight of the obelisk he had tossed back in ancient Rome. But then he remembered his experience down in the driveshaft tunnel of Var's ship. If he could provide the power necessary to hold that mighty ship aloft, perhaps he could remove this gun mount.

Quickly Clark set to work burning through the upper turret's supports. Once the connections were severed, he selected a spot in the thickest, strongest section of armor plating and burned a pair of handholds about three feet apart similar to the handholds he and Var had formed on the driveshaft. No longer fearing damage to his hands, he jammed them into the white-hot, molten metal. Bracing his feet against the upper surface of the saucer, Clark flexed his knees – did the old 'lift with your legs and not your back' even apply for him, he wondered – and slowly hoisted the massive structure into the air until its lower edge was level with his waist. Then leaning back he heaved it away from his body with all of his strength.

As the gun turret started to move, it didn't feel like it had taken any more effort than the Roman obelisk, maybe even a little less. Clark was certain the gun turret was many times heavier than the obelisk. Had his abilities really grown that much in the past few weeks?

At first, as Clark watched, the gun turret moved briskly away from his body. Then, after traveling about six feet, it abruptly seemed to stop moving. Clark stared at it for a moment trying to imagine what had just happened. Then he remembered he was still in 'speed-mode'. When he had thrown the giant obelisk, he had not been in speed-mode and had watched it travel all the way to its target – the gate of the Praetorian's Fort. Next he remembered how Chloe, Lex, Lana, and all the others he had carried in 'speed-mode', whether running or flying, seemed to be in some protective bubble that surrounded him when he was moving so fast the friction should have burnt off everyone's clothes. That must be the explanation. While he was in physical contact with the object, even something as large as the gun turret, it joined him in this slightly phase-shifted dimension where normal laws of physics didn't apply. But without physical contact, his 'bubble' must extend only about six feet. So once the gun turret got beyond that range, it seemed to shift back to 'normal-mode' and was now moving so slowly relative to him to appear frozen in place. And perhaps the 'speed-mode' effect also explained why tossing the gun turret had felt easier than the obelisk. Maybe in 'speed mode' an object's inertia was somehow reduced. At the moment, Clark wasn't certain whether these newfound factors in the use of 'speed mode' were good or bad, but he would have to keep them in mind for the future.

With the threat of the big guns eliminated, Clark could finally focus on taking control of the ship. During his initial tour of the ship he had located the control room, which was in the central sphere three levels down from the upper gun mount. Rather than heading straight there, Clark made a quick detour to the galley where he had stashed the gun crews. Entering the large room, he found so little time had passed the men were all still in the same positions where he had left them. Quickly he located the man he was looking for. He still didn't know how to read German rank insignias but this man had more braid on his uniform than any other person he had seen. If the trip back to Peenemunde was going to take thirty to forty-five minutes in 'normal' time, he wanted the man where he could keep an eye on him rather than letting him run loose and potentially start causing trouble.

With the man tossed over one shoulder, Clark proceeded on to the control room. When he arrived he took a moment to survey the room before dropping out of 'speed-mode'. It was a large room, at least twenty-five by forty feet, and was currently staffed by seventeen men. The air was sort of hazy as though there had been a small electrical fire and the ventilation system wasn't working properly. Making a quick inspection of the various controls and control panels, Clark was quickly frustrated again by his inability to read any of the German labels. Some of the equipment was fairly obvious like the radioman's position, but most of it remained a cipher. For a moment he found himself wishing he had Chloe's language gifts, or even Var's. With luck, someday he might undergo the 'Purl Nous' treatment Var had mentioned. But for now he definitely was going to have to recruit some help. So the first thing he needed to do was find someone who spoke English.

Clark set the officer down he had been carrying on a chair next to a table covered with maps. Then he dropped out of speed-mode.

"Umm, excuse me. Does anyone speak English?"

- + - + - + - + - +

Chief Pilot Horst Treush von Buttlar-Brandedfels was on the headset talking to Chief Gunnery officer Klaus Tauber who was acting as observer down on the lowest level of the sphere. They had just fired their third volley from the lower starboard pair of guns. He felt the standard jolt run through the floor plates he had come to expect. Then, a few seconds later, he felt the ship give a different shudder. He didn't have any experience in the area, none of them did, but his intuition told him it was something important like a stutter in the anti-grav drive. Ever since the horrific damage they had sustained from the point-blank barrage by the Hitler, a failure in the anti-grav system had been his biggest fear.

He was just about to have the radioman change his equipment from the frequency Tauber was on to the one down in Engineering when a voice loudly called out:

"Umm, excuse me. Does anyone speak English?"

Buttlar-Brandedfels glanced around the room looking for the one who had spoken. The first strange thing he noticed was Admiral Falle sitting over by the chart table, his gaze rapidly swinging around the room. When had he returned from the gun turret? The next strange thing was the young man in the black Gestapo uniform. Oh, he didn't know everyone on the crew and there were Gestapo officers in a handful of positions. But it wasn't the uniform which was strange, but rather the man's long, unruly black hair. No, German officer would have hair like that and most certainly not a member of the Gestapo.

The one who spoke in English must have been the man in the Gestapo uniform, Buttlar-Brandedfels decided. But before he could do anything, he was interrupted by excited shouting at the comm-station.

"What? Are you crazy? That's not possible," shouted the chief radioman into his headset.

"Evans, what is going on?" Buttlar-Brandedfels asked in a forceful tone to be heard.

Evans ripped off his headset. "Sir, they are saying the main guns have just fallen away into the sea!"

Buttlar-Brandedfels found himself agreeing with the radio operator's initial assessment that whoever he was talking to must be crazy. How could the guns just fall off?

Before he could ask Evans who he was talking to, the man in the Gestapo uniform demanded the room's attention by slamming his fist down on the heavy wooden chart table and shattering it into small pieces.

"Now that I have your attention," the man began again in English. "Does anyone speak English?"

Buttlar-Brandedfels stared at the table for a moment. Without any need to worry about weight, unlike the old Zeppelins, the table was extremely heavy – at least three hundred kilos. How had the man destroyed it with a single blow?

But he quickly shook off the shock and realized with the time he had spent in America working on the Zeppelin-Goodyear joint venture, his was probably the best English in the room.

"I speak English," answered Buttlar-Brandedfels. "Who are you? And what do you want?"

As he watched, some of the tension seemed to drain out of the young man's face. And he did look extremely young, Buttlar-Brandedfels realized. He didn't look more than sixteen or seventeen, tops.

"Who I am is not important at the moment. What I want is important. Now, I want you to turn the ship around and take us back to Peenemunde. And you might as well do it; I removed the main guns, so this ship is now nearly toothless and there isn't much point in staying here anyway."

Buttlar-Brandedfels stared at the man or rather boy. Could what the radioman reported be true? Had the guns and turrets really been disconnected from the ship and then fallen into the sea? Was that the cause of the unexplained shutter he had felt? How could the guns have been removed and how could this boy have done it?

- + - + - + - + - +

Clark was finally glad to have identified somebody who could understand him. Hopefully, this would make things easier. But then he glanced around at the hard expressions on the faces of most of these professional soldiers. It was going to take more than breaking a table or claiming to have been responsible for the removal of the big guns to convince them to follow his orders.

He clearly heard the distinctive clicks of the safeties being removed from the weapons carried by the two guards stationed at the main hatchway. Clark didn't know if they had received a subtle order from one of the officers or were acting on their own initiative, but almost instantly they opened fire on him with their sub-machine guns.

Clark let the first half dozen rounds visibly strike him in the back and shoulder before accelerating back up into 'speed-mode'. Immediately the remaining bullets seemed to freeze in mid-air. Quickly, Clark plucked them out of the air until his hands were almost overflowing. Then he returned to his original position and dropped out of 'speed-mode'.

When the chattering echoes of the guns died down, Clark unclenched his hands and let the thirty or forty bullets he was holding fall to the deck.

"It's not nice to play with guns," Clark said with a grin, looking directly at the man who had responded in English.

Then Clark made a show of turning towards the two men with the submachine guns and waggled his right index finger at them. "You shouldn't have done that." Next Clark pulled his communicator out of his pocket and pointed it at the men. Since he had been using it to hide some of his abilities from Indy, Clark decided he might as well do the same thing with the Germans. Sure that all eyes in the room were watching, he made a show of pressing an imaginary button on the side of the cylinder.

Instantly Clark shifted back into 'speed-mode', grabbed the two men with guns, and transported them down to the galley where he had left the gun crews. Discovering in the thirty seconds of 'normal' time which had passed since he had deposited the others down here that some of the men had already departed for other areas of the ship, Clark rounded up as many as he could quickly find. Once they were back in the galley, he took a moment to tack-weld the doors closed with his heat vision before returning to his original position on the command deck.

Once he dropped out of speed-mode, Clark watched the eyes of the man who had spoken widen in shock. But then from his perspective Clark knew the two men with the guns would have seemed to have disappeared into thin air due to the action of the silver cylinder.

"Now, where were we?" began Clark. "Oh, yes. We were discussing my request that you turn the ship around and return to your base. Well, it would be best if you think of it as more of an order than a request. I have tried to be careful not to hurt anymore of your crew than has been absolutely necessary, at least those who haven't actively tried to kill me, but I don't have all day. If you don't start obeying me, I may be forced to vaporize more of your crew."

"Who are you?" whispered the man who had spoken earlier.

Clark thought about it for a moment then grinned. "Hmm, I guess you could call me Captain America."

Clark remembered finding a box of old comic books up in the attic when he was nine or ten. They had been so old they dated from World War II and must have belonged to Grandpa Kent. He had spent an exciting afternoon reading about the adventures of Captain America and his sidekick, Bucky Barnes, and their battles against Nazis and the Japanese.

Since he did have super-strength and was fighting Nazis, it just felt right to claim to be Captain America. Hmm, Clark wondered for a moment how Whitney would react if he found out he had been regulated to the role of sidekick.

Clark watched expectantly for a reaction from the officer who spoke English and was disappointed when there was no flash of recognition in the man's eyes. Shit, Clark thought, the Captain America comic must not have been around back in 1936 or at least this German apparently had never heard of it. Then he remembered an old movie serial he had seen once on the Sci-Fi Channel – Flash Gordon. He remembered it starred Buster Crabbe and definitely dated to before the Second World War. It had been set in the distance future, but it did have ray guns and rocket ships. Hmm, perhaps that would work.

Waggling the silver tube, Clark continued, "You may have heard of an associate of mine, Flash Gordon?"

The widening of the man's eyes indicated he did recognize that name. Of course, the look alone didn't necessarily mean the man believed him.

"Now, since we are going to be spending some time together, what is your name?" asked Clark.

- + - + - + - + - +

Buttlar-Brandedfels was trying to figure out who the intruder was, and if his claim of removing the guns was true, and why he wanted them to return to base, when he caught out of the corner of his eye the hand signal Admiral Falle directed at the guards by the exit. Within a couple of seconds they had their submachine guns unslung and had opened fire on the stranger.

From where he stood he could see the fabric of the black uniform jerk and twitch where the first bullets struck the boy's upper back and left shoulder. But amazingly the body beneath the uniform didn't seem to react at all. Buttlar-Brandedfels had seen enough combat during the Great War to know the steady stream of bullets should have knocked the boy off of his feet and he should have been on the floor, dying.

But the boy just seemed to stand there until the guards' weapons were exhausted and the deafening roar in the enclosed metal compartment ground to a halt. Then he watched as the apparently uninjured boy raised his suddenly cupped hands and released a stream of spent bullets which pinged like a bunch of children's marbles as they bounced off the floor in suddenly silent chamber.

"It's not nice to play with guns," the boy in the black uniform calmly stated while staring Buttlar-Brandedfels in the eye.

Who was this kid? Buttlar-Brandedfels wondered. How come the bullets didn't hurt him? And what was with all the bullets in his hands? It was almost like he had caught them in mid-air.

He watched as the boy turned to face the two guards standing by the door, who were frantically trying to load the next clips into their weapons. Like they would do any more good than the first clips, thought Buttlar-Brandedfels.

"You shouldn't have done that," admonished the boy with a waggle of his finger. Then Buttlar-Brandedfels watched as the boy extracted a silver metal tube from his pocket. The ornately carved tube suddenly reminded him of the cigar case he had seen John Rockefeller pull from his suit coat pocket at the Rockefeller Center Grand Opening celebration in New York that he had attended back in '33. But thoughts of cigar cases were quickly torn from his mind as he watched the boy wave the tube in the direction of the guards and they simply vanished!

"Now, where were we?" began the boy in a calm voice, as though nothing more exciting was going on than ordering dinner in a nice restaurant. "Oh, yes. We were discussing my request that you turn the ship around and return to your base. Well, it would be best if you think of it as more of an order than a request. I have tried to be careful not to hurt anymore of your crew than has been absolutely necessary, at least those who haven't actively tried to kill me, but I don't have all day. If you don't start obeying me, I may be forced to vaporize more of your crew."

Buttlar-Brandedfels stared at the boy. Vaporize the crew? While it sounded like something from the movies, it did accurately describe what had just happened to the two guards.

"Who are you?" Buttlar-Brandedfels thought out loud.

The boy seemed to think about it for a minute and then his face broke out in a big grin as though the whole situation was some big joke. "Hmm, I guess you could call me Captain America."

America, thought Buttlar-Brandedfels. It certainly agreed with the boy's accent. But how could the Americans have gotten wind of this project? It was the most closely guarded secret in the Third Reich. And where did he get the ray gun? Of course, was it any more impossible to believe than the anti-gravity drive system which was propelling this ship?

As these thoughts ran through his head, Buttlar-Brandedfels kept his eyes on the youth. And the kid was looking at him with this expectant stare as though he thought Buttlar-Brandedfels would recognize the name he had given. Buttlar-Brandedfels thought about the name again, but 'Captain America' held no significance to him beyond the reference to the United States.

For a moment a look of disappointment flashed across the boy's face, but then it brighten again. "You may have heard of an associate of mine, Flash Gordon?"

Buttlar-Brandedfels immediately recognized the name – Flash Gordon. And it was straight from the movie serials. Back in March he had been part of a team sent to Stanford University on the west coast of the United States. The primary purpose of the trip had been to procure, by whatever means necessary, some prototype neutron physics equipment to help overcome several design difficulties with the anti-matter drive. He didn't have a strong background in physics, but had been included on the team because of his previous experience in dealing with Americans. During his earlier stays in the America, he had developed a taste for their cinema. So while the scientist types had been working at the University, he had slipped away frequently to see movies. And during their month long stay in California, he had seen four episodes of the Flash Gordon serial.

Before he could complete the thought about Flash Gordon or how this kid could possibly be associated with him, the boy continued speaking, "Now, since we are going to be spending some time together, what is your name?"

Buttlar-Brandedfels stared at the kid in the black Gestapo uniform for a moment, his mind suddenly overwhelmed by everything and feeling a nervous need to laugh at the craziness of the situation. Here he stood as chief pilot on a craft which put all of the ships in the Flash Gordon serial to shame. And he was facing a man with a ray gun who had just vaporized two of the crew and who also claimed to have removed three gun turrets which each weighed several hundred thousand kilograms. The whole situation was just as outrageous as any episode of Flash Gordon. But then the gravity of the situation came back to mind, the innocuous term 'vaporized' still meant the two guards were DEAD.

"I am Chief Pilot Horst Treush von Buttlar-Brandedfels," began Buttlar-Brandedfels. Then he noticed Admiral Falle climbing to his feet and decided he had better introduce the Admiral and hopefully forestall his being vaporized, too. With a gesture towards the Admiral he quickly continued, "This is Admiral Victor Falle. He is in command of this vessel. Would it be okay if I take a moment to explain the situation to him? It will make things easier."

The boy looked at the Admiral and then nodded. "Yeah, Horst, I guessed as much from his uniform and that's why I brought him up here before I cut away the gun turret."

Buttlar-Brandedfels stared at the silver tube still in the boy's hand. It had sufficient power to vaporize two crewmen, but could it really cut through the nearly meter thick steel housing of the turrets? And not just in one local spot, but around the entire perimeter? Or did the kid have some heavier duty weapons? Of course, who said he was even working alone.

After a few seconds Buttlar-Brandedfels forced his mind to stop running in pointless circles due to insufficient data and turned towards his commander and switched back to German. "Admiral, this man claims to have removed the guns just like the radioman reported. And after seeing how the guards' weapons had no effect on him and then the way he vaporized them, well I think we have to give credence to what he says."

Falle stared at the young man for a moment and then seemed to mutter to himself, "One moment I was down in the turret and the next I was sitting up here on the bridge. How is that possible?"

Then as Buttlar-Brandedfels watched, the admiral once more pulled himself together. "Horst, what does he want?"

"Sir, he demands that we return to Peenemunde."

"Why does he want that?" asked Falle. "If he truly has removed our guns, why not destroy us here? And if he is trying to steal this ship and its technology, why not demand we fly him somewhere else?"

"I don't know, sir. He didn't explain. But if he has the technology to get aboard this ship in mid-flight and cut away all three gun turrets undetected, well, I have a feeling this isn't about simply stealing the anti-grav drive system."

Buttlar-Brandedfels watched as the admiral turned to stare at the boy for a moment. Then suddenly he cocked his head to the side before glancing back towards his chief pilot. "Horst, does he remind you of a younger Var-El? Do you think a rescue mission to retrieve the alien has finally shown up after all of these years? And it just happened to arrive in the middle of this situation with the Hitler?"

The pilot turned back to look at the kid again himself. And suddenly what the admiral said started making a lot of sense, certainly more sense than the kid's story about Flash Gordon and Captain America. Oh, it didn't explain why the kid spoke perfect American English, but no German. Or why he was dressed in a Gestapo uniform. But after a couple years around Var-El, he knew the alien had the technology to do seemingly impossible things, certainly in the range of stopping bullets or vaporizing men.

While he was pondering the current situation, the radio headset he had pulled off at the youth's arrival and which he was still holding in his hands began to squawk. The volume was set high enough that in the suddenly quiet room he could clearly make out that it was the voice of the chief radioman Evans, currently seated a mere twenty-five feet away.

"Sir, I was just listening in on the observers' channel. They have been trying to report that one minute ago the alien's ship shot into view from the south at high speed. It swung down low over the Hitler, slowed for a moment right over the battleship's foredeck, and then rose back to altitude. It is currently due west of us about three kilometers and is matching our speed and course."

Buttlar-Brandedfels glanced over at Evans and saw him watching even as he spoke. He gave the radioman one short nod of acknowledgement and then turned his attention back to the admiral.

"Admiral, the alien's ship is on the scene and it just made a brief pass right over the Hitler. I think this supports your theory about this boy being part of some mission to retrieve Var-El. I think we also need to consider if the two women who have supposedly taken control of the Hitler are also part of the same group."

Falle nodded slowly. "It makes some sense, however what I still don't understand is what about the Hitler could interest them. If they have the technology to build these anti-gravity powered vehicles, what could the Hitler have that they want?"

"I don't know, sir," responded Buttlar-Brandedfels. "But whatever it is, it must be important. I mean they had the Hitler engage us until help could arrive. And then when help does arrive they immediately disarm us."

At this point Buttlar-Brandedfels' conversation with the Falle was interrupted by the boy. "Enough talking already, are you ready to take this ship back to Peenemunde?"

Buttlar-Brandedfels looked at the boy and then back to Falle. "Sir, I think the boy is getting impatient. We need to do something soon, before he does something drastic."

Falle sighed. "Horst, I don't see any option at the moment, but doing what he says. However try to buy what time you can, I have this feeling we really need to come up with a plan before we return to the base."

Buttlar-Brandedfels nodded. Then he turned back to the boy in black and addressed him in English. "We will comply with your request. I will however need to issue instructions to the crew, both here on the bridge and down in Engineering, in German."

The boy nodded in turn. Then he again held up the silver tube. "Fine. Just be aware this is more than a simple weapon; with it I can determine this ship's position. If you don't maintain a course directly towards the base, I will know it and well, I think I will just leave my response to your imagination."

"We won't give you any problems," responded Buttlar-Brandedfels in a tone he hoped would be reassuring. And he meant it, at least until they came up with a plan that had some hope of success. Although at the moment he had no idea what they could come up with to stop a man who seemed to be impervious to bullets.

Stalling for time, Buttlar-Brandedfels pointed to the ruined remains of the chart table. "I will need to use the maps to determine the appropriate heading."

The boy looked at the jumble of maps, slide rules, compasses, protractors, and assorted other implements used to chart a ship's course that were scattered all over the deck around the collapsed table. For a moment he looked like he was going to interfere, but then he simply said. "Okay, but let's see a little hustle. I expect us to be underway within five minutes."

Buttlar-Brandedfels nodded and then set the men still standing around the table to work clearing away the broken remains so they would have some cleared space on the deck to work. He knew he could have set a preliminary course, correct within a few degrees, based on the information already in his head, but he intended to stall for the full five minutes and then try to stretch it for a couple minutes longer.

- + - + - + - +

Seven minutes later and Buttlar-Brandedfels was running out of things to do without too obviously stalling, not that the kid had made any objectives to having already exceed his original deadline. No, the kid seemed fascinated with the whole process of charting the ship's position and course. But Buttlar-Brandedfels didn't want to risk upsetting things since they had been going smoothly so far. And besides, he had a few thoughts to keep the progress to a snail's pace. Hopefully, Admiral Falle was also having a few thoughts on how to regain control of the ship. He had seen the admiral talking discreetly on one of the headsets.

"Helmsman, set a course of one seventy four degrees," said Buttlar-Brandedfels, rising to his feet from where he had been crouched by the chairs. "Evans, call Engineering and see if they are ready to increase speed by twenty kilometers per hour."

Once he received an acknowledgement from the radioman, Buttlar-Brandedfels strode over to one of the periscopes and hit the control lever which caused it to descend. Once it was down and locked, he flipped down the handles which controlled the focus and zoom. He was leaning towards the eyepiece when he sensed the youth following him over.

He had just started to scan the empty ocean in front of them when he heard the silver tube in the boy's hand start to emit a voice – apparently the device was a radio in addition to being a weapon.

"Clark, this is Hank," the voice began in English with an almost hysterical note. "We are trapped in the bowels of the battleship, its keel has been blown out, and it is rapidly sinking. Lana is gone, and Whitney has been shot and may be dying. We need help!"

Buttlar-Brandedfels jerked his face away from the periscope and turned towards the boy. One second he found him rapidly scanning the floor as though he was looking for something, and in the next boy vanished as quickly and completely as the two guards he had vaporized earlier.

Well, perhaps not as cleanly as the guards, thought Buttlar-Brandedfels as he noticed the one and a half meter diameter hole which had appeared in the deck near where the boy had been standing. Buttlar-Brandedfels walked over to the hole and met Admiral Falle approaching from the other direction. Once they reached the hole they both stopped and stared. The hole appeared to have been burned through the deck; its edges still glowing white hot.

Buttlar-Brandedfels could feel a distinct breeze blowing up out of the hole. Taking a half step closer, he slowly leaned over the edge and discovered a line of matching holes burned in a slightly diagonal direction down through every lower deck of the ship. And then leaning out slightly further, he discovered to his horror that the holes were perfectly aligned on the mighty battleship, Hitler. And, as the voice from the silver cylinder had said, the great ship was obviously near the end of its death throes for it was down by the head standing nearly vertical with no more than forty meters of its stern still above the surface of the choppy waves.

Part 3

At least clocks were the same in English or German, thought Clark, as he watched the minute hand on the big clock mounted on the far wall tick over to 6:44 AM. It was several minutes passed his stated deadline of five minutes for the Germans to get underway towards their base at Peenemunde. He knew they were attempting to stall for time, but he wasn't in that big of a hurry so he played along. Var was going to need some time for his evacuation plan to work and with this ship's main weapons neutralized the time could be spent here just as well as on the way back to the base.

Clark watched as the German officer with the impossibly long name, who he simply thought of as 'Horst', walked over to one of the periscope type devices hung from the ceiling a few feet away from the improvised chart table. He followed the man over, thinking how fortunate it was that this ship contained very little lead to impede his own vision. Suddenly, Hank's voice sprang from his communicator so abruptly and with such intensity for a moment he was afraid he was going to drop the device.

"Clark, this is Hank. We are trapped in the bowels of the battleship, its keel has been blown out, and it is rapidly sinking. Lana is gone, and Whitney has been shot and may be dying. We need help!"

Here he had been thinking about how he could see right through this great flying ship and yet he hadn't even bothered to keep an eye on what had been going on with the battleship below, Clark chastised himself. With the big guns gone, he had thought the danger to the battleship and his friends on board it was over. But he should have known everything had seemed to be going too smoothly. Since they had been back here in Nazi Germany, when had anything ever gone smoothly?

Before Hank's message had even finished, Clark was already scanning the ocean below for the battleship. And what he found almost froze him in horror; he had imagined from Hank's words the ship would be slowly settling in the water. But what he saw was the ship seeming to hang vertically in the air, its three giant propellers spinning madly and its twin large rudder planes skewed at unnatural angles.

Instantly Clark wanted to transition to 'speed-mode', but Hank was still talking and what he had to say might be equally important as the initial part of the message about the ship sinking. And then came the far bigger shock – 'Lana was gone and Whitney was dying'. What did Hank mean by Lana was gone? If he meant she was dead, surely he would have said so. Besides she had Chloe's gift, unless she had taken a direct hit from one of the big shells, she should be able to survive anything the Nazis could throw at her. Had she been in the wrong place during the initial exchange between the two great ships? And if she wasn't dead, where could she have gone on a ship out in the middle of the ocean?

The final comment about Whitney dying barely had time to registered in Clark's mind; he abruptly pushed himself deep into speed mode without waiting to see if Hank had any more incomprehensibly bad news. Whatever was going on down on the battleship, he needed to be there immediately. Knowing a straight line was the shortest distance between two points, Clark didn't even consider wasting the tiniest fraction of a second it would take to wend his way through the corridors of the ship down to his initial entry point on the lowest level of the ship, but instead shifted directly from his x-ray vision to his most intense heat vision. And with the adrenaline surge caused by Hank's message, his power level seemed to be ten times what he had achieved while removing the gun turrets.

Even in speed mode, where things ordinarily seemed to happen at a slow, leisurely pace, it felt like only an instant before the relatively thin deck of the control room was turned to vapor. In the time it took him to dive through the opening, his incredible heat vision had already ripped through the next three levels as well. Forcing his body to accelerate towards the battleship as hard as he could, he raced down through level after level of the flying dreadnought. It was only as he approached the thick outer hull that his flying speed almost outpaced his heat vision's ability to burn through steel. Whereas his heat vision had removed the interior decks many feet before he reached them, his face was within inches of the outer hull before his heat vision finally punched through to the clear open air beyond the ship. In fact, if not for the protective barrier that seemed to surround him when he was in speed-mode, his broad shoulders would have touched the molten edges of hole and finished the destruction of his already much abused black Gestapo jacket.

Clark burst out into the brisk, fresh air below the flying behemoth. After the closed confines of the ship's control room with its air almost choked with the smoke from burned electrical panels and the Nazi guards' gunfire, the early morning light felt blindingly clean and bright. For a second it was enough to improve Clark's dark mood; he had single-handedly disarmed this great and powerful ship, surely he could handle whatever was going on down on the battleship below. But then his gaze was drawn back to the battleship. Due to the speed-mode effect its giant propellers seemed to have ground to a halt and a great churning mound of foaming white water over what had to be the underwater location of its primary exhaust stack stood frozen in place. How many seconds in 'normal' time would it be, he wondered, before the ship fully slipped beneath the surface and would be lost from sight forever?

Pushing himself hard, he managed to increase the rate of his mad descent even further. As he rocketed down towards the exposed portion of the ship, he started scanning its vast interior to find Hank and the others. Immediately he realized how futile it was to use his eyes to pick out four specific individuals among the hundreds he could see trapped in various locations within the ship. Perhaps a search with his x-ray vision might not be ultimately futile, but it would definitely consume more time than he dared to spare. With the frozen ship seeming to race up towards him, Clark forced himself to close his eyes for a moment to better concentrate on his recently discovered ability to sense electro-magnetic sources. Even if Hank had stopped talking, his radio should still be powered up and transmitting.

The battleship had seventeen small generators and radios still functioning, but Clark had no trouble picking out the one he wanted. When he had given Hank his backup communicator back on Var's ship, he had turned it on to demonstrate how to use it. And now he could make out its distinctive flavor like tasting a scoop of raspberry sherbet mixed in with a large bowl of vanilla ice cream. It must be the unique frequency range the radio used, he decided.

When Clark reopened his eyes, the location of Hank's radio remained overlaid on his field of view, a view which was almost completely filled with the light gray of the ship's broad stern. During the short time he had closed his eyes his rapid descent had brought him within forty feet of the hull. Quickly he cranked his heat vision back up to his maximum intensity. He was approaching a spot on the surface of the stern about fifteen feet above the central propeller and as it turned molten white, Clark wondered for a moment what would happen if he slammed into the ship's hull without burning a hole through it first. As deep as he was in 'speed-mode', he must be traveling the equivalent of two hundred thousand miles an hour in the 'real' world. What would happen if a two hundred pound projectile hit a two-foot thick steel plate at two hundred thousand miles an hour? Suddenly, his mind dredged up a tidbit from a TV show on the Discovery Channel about battleships. It was an animated sequence showing what happened when a sixteen inch projectile hit the armored side of another battleship. It wasn't the projectile itself or its payload of high explosive that did the most damage. No, it was the shockwave which did the most damage. He was moving at least a hundred times as fast as a normal projectile and based on the old E equals m v squared equation, his kinetic energy would be on the order of a thousand times as much as a 2000 lb shell. Would the shockwave from his impact kill all the survivors on the ship? Might it even shatter the entire ship? He didn't know, but the risk certainly seemed high. Therefore he focused his attention on burning a passage through the hull before he hit it.

As with his departure from the Nazis' flying ship, Clark was within inches of the reinforced hull before his heat vision finally burned a hole completely through. Then without pausing, he commenced burning through the numerous compartment walls which separated him from Hank's radio signal.

His destination was almost halfway down the length of the great ship. The first few compartments contained the steerage gear and propeller drive shafts and had been only lightly manned when the ship had been underway. Therefore it was relatively easy to maintain a straight course without the risk of vaporizing any of the bodies. As he had been approaching the great ship, he had decided it was best to just avoid them all since he didn't want to waste time determining which ones were living and which ones were already dead. But as he penetrated into the more populated areas, he was forced to steadily slow down and follow a fairly erratic course to avoid injuring any possible survivors. After what seemed like long minutes of continuous use of his heat vision, he reached a location where he could sense only one final wall remained between himself and Hank's communicator. Being especially careful, he burned through the last wall and drop into the compartment.

The room was relatively large; Clark guessed it was some kind of mess-hall or lounge although it was difficult to tell at a glance with it standing on end and with all of the furnishings pile in a jumble at the bottom. In amongst the tables and chairs he quickly counted a dozen bodies frozen due to the 'speed-mode' effect. As he glided gently down, he spotted Hank and Marion and then Whitney partially hidden under their bodies. Before returning to normal mode, he cleared away enough debris to leave some open space around the others. And as he worked, he couldn't help but see the large, ugly red stain spreading across the front of Whitney's 'borrowed' uniform. He definitely looked in very bad shape.

Dropping out of 'speed-mode', Clark was shocked by the intensity of the noise and vibrations in the heart of the dying ship. Explosions seemed to be going off continuously all around them and the screeching and screaming of tearing metal was almost deafening.

Clark tried to be gentle as he shook Hank's shoulder to get his attention. "Hank, where's Lana?"

Hank, who had only stopped speaking into the communicator one second earlier, did drop the device in shock. "Clark, my god, how did you get here so fast?"

Clark shook his head. There was no time for making up stories. Almost shouting to be sure Hank understood him, he repeated, "Where's Lana?"

Hank stared at Clark standing over them in his jet-black uniform. The boy's eyes seeming to glow a feral red, whether with rage or something else, Hank didn't know. But whatever the source, Clark stood there amongst the ruin of the room and simply radiated power. Ever since Hank had met the kid there was something different about him, something beyond the stories about magical alien devices always ready to get him out of any jam. But now it was like the true Clark was standing before him – a warrior, no, an actual honest–to-god Hero.

Pulling his thoughts back to Clark's question, Hank answered at almost a shout of his own, "I don't know. She gave the command to have the ship scuttled. Then she somehow caused this green doorway thing to appear and she disappeared through it."

"Clark, it was the time machine," added Marion from where she still hovered over Whitney's body.

Hank turned and stared at his wife. Had she actually said 'time machine'? But one look at her face convinced him she wouldn't be playing games at a time like this, not with Whitney's or maybe all of their lives on the line. After Clark's stories about Vulcans and other aliens he had been at least somewhat mentally prepared for Var's giant spaceship when they had discovered it a few hours earlier. But a 'time machine'? Then Hank remembered Lana's accelerated healing abilities he had just witnessed. At the time he thought she possessed some unknown biblical relic with properties similar to the Grail Cup. But if she was from the distant future, perhaps there was an alternate, technologically-based explanation. And as the word 'technology' raced through his mind, he couldn't help remembering his first encounter with Clark down in the dungeon below the chateau where he had first glimpsed his wondrous communication device with its almost magical paper-thin color display and all the other things he had seen Clark do with the device. Yes, if these kids were from the distant future, a lot of the things he had seen over the past couple of days suddenly made a lot more sense.

As Hank tried to get his head around the time machine concept, Clark was trying to understand why Lana had departed via the device. Oh, he understood if she thought their position on the ship was untenable, it might be necessary to retreat to the future to come back and try again since this ship wasn't even part of their main reason for being in 1936 Germany. But if she thought a retreat was necessary, he couldn't for the life of him understand why she would have left the others behind. And then there was Hank's comment about how it had been Lana who had ordered the scuttling of the ship and therefore causing the precarious situation they were now all in. It didn't make any sense.

Then Whitney let out a moan and Clark's attention was drawn to him. Why would Lana have left Whitney behind? Was she planning to return soon?

"How long ago did Lana leave? Did she say anything before she left? When was Whitney shot?" asked Clark. Many more questions were trying to burst forth, but Clark held his tongue so Hank or Marion or someone would have a chance to explain what was going on.

Even though Marion had only meet Clark briefly back at her hotel at the start of this whole adventure, she still was able to recognize the confusion on his face.

"Clark, at least since the time when we left the chateau, there has been another girl in Lana's head, a girl named Laura. Ever since we have been on this ship, I think it has been mostly this Laura who has been controlling her body and dealing with the Germans. But, now, from her actions and what she said, I think there is someone else who is controlling Lana's body. And this new personality is . . . is . . . I think it is evil."

Marion might have said more, but abruptly the ship was shaken by the most intense explosions since the original scuttling charges; explosions so severe even Clark was thrown to the floor. The small part of Clark's mind that was still aware of his surroundings guessed it was all of the shells stored in one of the weapons' magazines cooking off. But most of his attention while he struggled up to a kneeling position was focused on what Marion had said. What was Laura doing here? Because the 'Laura' Marion referred to had to be the Chloe-copy which had possessed Lana's body for several weeks back in ancient Rome. But Clark knew she had wiped herself from Lana's 'bot system when they had returned to Metropolis University so Lana could have her body back. So how could she be back in Lana's body now? And even if she was, Clark couldn't imagine her abandoning the others here any more than he could imagine Lana doing it.

When the explosions died down enough to where they go once more communicate at a mere shout, Marion continued. "Clark, Whitney was shot before Lana left. I begged her to save him, but she almost laughed in my face and said 'What is the love of one man compared to the adoration of millions where she was going.'"

Clark heard Marion's words, but found himself feeling more confused than before she had started speaking. Why wouldn't Lana have saved Whitney? For years it seemed like Whitney had been the center of her whole life. Okay, she had Lex now, but still he couldn't imagine her leaving a wounded and dying Whitney. Hadn't she brought him back from the dead after the encounter with the tornado and again when he had been gunned down at the chateau?

Suddenly Clark felt something tugging at this leg. When he looked down he discovered it was Whitney's hand. His eyes traced their way up his arm until they reached his face. Whitney's face was a grimace of pain, but his eyes were mostly focused on Clark and Clark heard him whisper his name. With his powerful hearing Clark could hear Whitney from where he knelt, but he quickly moved forward until he was crouched over Whitney's face to reduce Whitney's strain. As he lowered his head, Marion lowered hers also from the other side.

"Whitney, buddy, I'm here. I'll get you out of here, just hang on."

For a moment Whitney's gaze seemed to turn inward and Clark heard him whisper to himself, "I failed her. I failed her."

Then Whitney's gaze found Clark once more. He reached up and with the Samson Braid he wore still amplifying his meager remaining strength, he tore the lapel almost completely off of Clark's jacket as he tried to pull him even closer.

"Clark, I failed her. My goddess, Sliviuh. I failed her. Clark, you have to promise me you will protect her."

Clark almost pulled back in shock. He had only heard that name once before during a conversation on a sun-filled terrace back in Rome. The conversation had taken place almost a month earlier from his perspective and at the time it seemed like most of his attention had been on the destruction he had wrought in the arena or on what had happened to Lana's mind when she had been brought back from the dead. But suddenly the highlights of that conversation seemed crystal-clear in his mind and he felt his mouth go dry.

Then he felt Whitney give one last tug at the remains of his lapel before his hand started to go slack. Quickly, Clark looked back down into Whitney's face. His next words were so soft no one in the world except Clark could have heard them. "Promise me."

Clark saw the pain which had been contorting Whitney's face start to smooth away and then light in his eyes began to fade. With tears filling his eyes, Clark grabbed Whitney's hand in a tight grip.

"I promise," Clark whispered, as Whitney's last breath shuddered out.

Clark lowered Whitney's hand and then wiped at the tears in his eyes. Whitney was dead and he didn't know what to do. Whitney had been dead twice before, but both times Lana had been able to revive him within the magic 'five minute window'. But Lana was nowhere around this time.

For a moment Clark considered opening a doorway of his own back to the future, but what would be the point? It was unlikely he would able to locate Lana within the next five minutes and even if he did, if she was really possessed by Sliviuh, he probably wouldn't have any more success at convincing her to save Whitney than Marion had had.

And he couldn't take Whitney's body back to Chloe. She was still lying in the storm cellar near death herself. And if he didn't retrieve the mysterious artifact from the opening ceremonies, he didn't have a chance of saving her either.

He knelt there staring at Whitney's lifeless body, his mind going in futile circles trying to come up with a way of saving his friend. Finally, one of the nearly constant streams of shockwaves rolling through the stricken ship broke a latch on a cupboard mounted on a wall well above their current position. The resulting rain of china didn't hurt Clark or even Hank or Marion due to gift of their Samson braids, but it did finally make Clark once more aware of his surroundings.

The first thing he noticed was the low moans coming from several of the other survivors in this compartment. Then he became aware of a faint roaring sound coming from somewhere above. When he looked up with his x-ray vision he saw the ship was now completely below the surface and seawater was roaring in the large hole he had burned through the stern. The first three chambers he had passed through were already completely filled. If he had burned a straight path to his present location, some of the water would already be there. But the erratic course he had followed on his way down through the ship was causing the seawater to mostly fill each chamber before moving on to the next. However they had at most ten seconds before the water would reach their current location.

Clark looked across Whitney's body to where Marion still knelt. Hank had joined her and now sat with his arm around slowly rocking her as she wept. Clark knew he could fly Marion and Hank back to Var's ship, but could he leave behind the sailors moaning in the background. And if he came back for the men in this compartment, what about the other survivors still scattered around the ship? Which military group was it with the slogan 'No one gets left behind, everyone comes home'? Just like back at the chateau, Clark knew he couldn't leave any of the survivors to their fate. Most of them weren't even 'bad' guys by anyone's standards. No, they were just sailors doing their jobs. In fact, if there were any 'bad' guys in the current situation, it was probably his own people. Hadn't it been Lana, albeit under the control of Sliviuh, who had caused the destruction of this ship? So it was definitely his responsibility to save as many of the crew as he could. He knew he wouldn't quit until the only ones remaining would be Whitney and an honor guard of his fellow dead.

And then as Clark rose to his feet to ferry Hank and Marion to safety first, something in his chain of thoughts suddenly 'clicked'. There was still one way to potentially save Whitney. Taking him to the future now wouldn't work, but it might be possible to come back for him later. Once he had either revived Chloe or restored Lana to control of her body, not that he had the slightest idea how to accomplish either of those goals at the moment, he could use the time machine to retrieve Whitney's body, not unlike the way Chloe had resurrected Lana's parents or Lex's mom. He just needed to return within five minutes of Whitney's death.

The clock on the bridge of the flying ship had said it was 6:44 AM when he had left. He wondered how accurate it was. Since then, not more than one or two minutes could have elapsed. Was that going to be good enough to know when to retrieve Whitney? Then he realized it was not only a question of time, but place. How would they relocate this exact spot when the whole ship was below the surface of the ocean? And given its great length, this compartment itself was hundreds of feet down.

He briefly considered bringing Whitney's body back up to Var's ship, but then decided that had a high potential of causing a time paradox. They had never determined what would happen if you came back through the portal when you were already there. At a minimum it would give him knowledge about his future he probably shouldn't know. So it seemed best to leave Whitney's body on this ship so he wouldn't know the results of his actions before he should.

But that still left the problem of locating the submerged ship in the future. It seemed like it would be easier to relocate it if the ship was back at the surface. And he realized it would also simplify moving the other survivors to the flying German vessel if the battleship was closer. The question was, could he raise the battleship back to the surface? He had held Var's ship aloft by spinning its great drive shaft. If he could hold that ship aloft, could he lift this ship by a more direct application of his strength and flying abilities?

All these thoughts had raced through his head in the fraction of the second it had taken to rise back to his feet. Clark hesitated for only a moment; if he was going to try to lift the ship every second he delayed would just make the task more difficult. And every second he delayed would result in more survivors drowning. If he was going to do this, it was going to have to be in 'speed-mode'. Then he remembered tossing the massive upper turret of the Nazis battleship. While he was in speed-mode the normal laws of physics didn't seem to apply to things he touched and things were therefore easier to move.

Quickly deciding it would be, at least psychologically, easier to push from the bottom than pull from the top, Clark knew he needed to reach the prow of the ship. Scanning around with his x-ray vision, it looked faster and easier to burn a path out through the ship's superstructure and proceed down along the outside of the ship then to burn through all of the intervening compartments on a direct path to the prow. His selected route would give the ocean water a straight-line path to this compartment, but if everything happened in speed-mode, it all should be over before this area was flooded.

Without a second glance at Hank or Marion, Clark shifted into speed mode and launched himself at the opposite wall of the compartment, aiming at a spot about a third of the way up. Instantly he cranked his heat vision back up and started the process of burning through another series of walls.

After burning through seven walls, none of them near the two foot thickness of the main hull, Clark punched through an exterior wall at the aft edge of the superstructure just forward of the number three main turret. He had never tried to fly in 'speed mode' underwater before, not that he could fly in any other way but in 'speed mode'. He discovered the bubble of space which seemed to travel with him into the altered physics state seemed to act as a barrier keeping a bubble of air around him – at least he didn't immediately get wet when he entered the water.

Quickly he swung left around the superstructure and then turned down towards the front of the ship. The damage to the exterior of the ship was just as horrific as the damage he had experienced on the interior. Some of the damage was from the shelling by the flying dreadnought, but most of it seemed to be a result of internal explosions based on the way the decking and exterior walls were ripped outward. The water he passed through was flooded with air bubbles from the countless torn open compartments. For a moment the density of the 'frozen in-place' bubbles made him think he was moving through a giant container of Alka-Seltzer.

The water near the center of the ship was brilliantly lit by the on-going internal explosions, but when he looked towards the prow, now nearly a thousand feet below the surface, the water became as black as night. Down into those forbidding depths Clark raced.

Almost before he knew it, Clark had flown down passed the prow and had to make a big loop to come up at it from below. As he flew upwards he discovered both of the large anchors had fallen free somewhere during the preceding events and now the massive chains disappeared down into the even further depths. Deciding these anchors and chains represented hundreds of tons of useless weight, he took a moment to burn through the chains near where they disappeared into the hull.

Then turning his attention to the prow he selected a point about ten feet above the red paint line which represented the old waterline. Hoping he was at least somewhat in line with the center of gravity of the great ship, Clark moved forward until his hands were pressed against the cold metal of the ship. Once he had a firm grip, he started a combination of pushing and flying upwards. He strained for what felt like almost a minute in his accelerated state, but it seemed like nothing was happening.

Pausing for a moment he tried to think through the situation. He had thrown the large turret from the flying battleship without too much effort. Was the problem the huge increase in weight of the ship versus the turret? But no, he had managed to hold Var's ship aloft by spinning the giant drive shaft, so the amount of energy he needed to expend shouldn't be a limiting factor. Then he remembered how in both instances he had burned handholds into the structure he was trying to move. Was that the answer? Did he need the more solid contact of his hands in the metal to cause his personal bubble of altered physics to expand to encompass the object he wanted to move?

It certainly seemed worth a try since his current approach didn't seem to be working. Turning his heat vision gaze onto the hull, Clark started burning handholds on either side of the prow about three feet apart. Then when the metal reached a molten white hot, he jammed his hands into the selected locations.

Forcing himself to once more start flying upwards, this time he sensed an immediate response. Slowly at first, but then at an ever accelerating pace, the giant battleship started moving up towards the surface.

After about two minutes of 'speed-mode' time, the amount of effort required suddenly took an abrupt step down and the rate at which ship was accelerating significantly increased. Looking up with his x-ray vision, Clark could see the stern of the ship had just broken clear of the surface. He quickly realized he had been working against the column of water above the ship, but the air above the ship didn't provide the same resistance. Therefore another thirty seconds of 'speed-mode' time saw the rest of the mighty, eight hundred foot long ship rise clear of the water as well.

For a moment Clark almost paused, as he reached his original goal. But then he saw the German's flying ship still almost a mile above his current water level location. If he could lift the battleship clear of the water, why not lift it all the way up to the other ship's level? It would make transferring the survivors quicker and it would give them more time to retrieve Whitney's body before the ship once more plunged to the depths. Therefore Clark continued to lift the ship higher until it was at the same altitude as the other great ship. Then carefully continuing to balance the ship on its nose, he slowly moved it laterally until it hovered barely eighty feet from the brilliant red saucer of the Nazis' other wonder weapon.

Pulling his hands free of the molten metal, Clark allowed himself to drop away until he was well clear and he was certain his 'alternate' dimension bubble was no longer acting on the ship. Then he flew back up passed the long wood covered foredeck, passed the two mighty forward gun turrets, passed the towering superstructure. Now fully exposed to the dawn's light, the ship looked so much bigger and more massive than it had down in the dark depths of the ocean. Had he really lifted this giant battleship from its submerged location to this spot a mile above the surface of the water? For an instant a smile crossed Clark's face and then he allowed himself to fly a big loop around the battleship before getting back to work. It wasn't really a victory loop for having managed to hoist a 50,000 ton ship a mile into the air, no, of course not.

Then using the same series of holes he had used to exit the ship, Clark returned to the compartment where he had left Hank and Marion although he did, along the way, open the holes up further to make it easier to pass through while carrying the others. On his arrival, he found nothing in the compartment had changed; Marion and Hank were still kneeling beside Whitney's body. Clark noticed his spare communication device was still in Hank's hand and still turned on. Guessing they might need every advantage to locate Whitney's body in the future, Clark pulled the device from Hank's hand and stuffed it into Whitney's breast pocket. With no more than one lingering glance at Whitney's body, Clark swept the Jones up into his arms. After exiting the ship he flew them over to Var's ship for safety rather than to the Germans' flying ship. Besides, Clark wanted to talk to Var before beginning the long, arduous task of finding and moving all of the German survivors to their other ship.

Arriving at Var's ship, which was holding a pacing position a little over a mile from its German counterpart, Clark found the main hatch at the bottom of the lower central hemisphere still standing open. Flying inside, he landed and then proceeded to walk down the corridor to the central grav-shaft before resuming flight mode to reach Var's command deck. Landing, he found Gretchen frozen in place next to Var, who was seated in his command chair. Carefully lowering Hank and Marion to the deck, he then strode over to the command chair.

Whether Var had already been in 'speed-mode' or he somehow sensed Clark's presence, either way Var turned to face Clark.

"Very impressive, Clark," began Var with a nod of his head towards the view through the seemingly transparent dome of his upper hull.

Clark looked in the indicated direction and for the first time got a good look at his handiwork from a distance. The long, slender battleship hung directly in front of the wide, saucer-shaped flying ship. It looked as though some long, invisible cord was stretched down from the distant heavens and attached to its stern. The light coating of water from its recent sojourn in the ocean depths glittered red, orange, and yellow in the early dawn's light. From this distance and position, the giant battleship looked like a glimmering jewel rather than the lethal weapon of destruction it really was.

Clark gave an only slightly embarrassed shrug. "It seemed like it would be easier to move the survivors to the Germans' other ship if they were closer together. And it is going to take a lot of time and effort to locate all of them. I was hoping you would be willing to help."

Var nodded. "Yeah, I will be happy to help; there has been enough death already this morning." Then Var glanced over at where Hank and Marion were frozen in a kneeling position on the floor. "What about Whitney and the other girl?"

Clark felt his eyes start to tear up again at the mention of Whitney and Lana. "Oh, Var, I really screwed up. I never should have let Hank and Whitney go after the girls while I handled the other flying ship. Since they both had the braids, I thought it was okay and right for them to be the ones to save the girls. But I should have just gone over there in 'speed-mode' and retrieved the girls before taking care of the other ship. It is all my fault."

Var saw the boy was in tears and knew something bad must have happened to the others. He quickly climbed down from the command chair and pulled Clark into a hug like he had done many times before with his children back on Krypton.

"Clark, tell me what happened. Perhaps getting it out will help."

Clark returned the hug, as Var suddenly felt like the closest thing to his own Mom and Dad he had experienced in weeks. Slowly, haltingly with many pauses for tears, Clark got out the events which had transpired on the two other great ships. For what felt like almost an hour the two Kryptonians sat on the couch with their arms around each other's shoulders.

Finally, Var spoke up. "Come on, Clark. We still have a lot of work to do today, a lot of people to rescue. I have always found keeping busy helps at times like this."

Clark nodded and then rose to his feet. As he turned towards the grav-shaft, he asked, "Did you send the message to get them to evacuate from Peenemunde? Did it work?"

Var sighed as he stood to join the younger man. "I hope so. I sent a message on all the radio frequencies they use about a release of lethal gases from the rocket fuel factory and how it was drifting towards the main residential areas of the base. Hopefully, it will get most of the people out of the facility, but I think we are going to have to hunt down and remove stragglers before we can self-destruct the German ship."

Clark nodded in agreement to Var's earlier comment – it was shaping up to be a very long day in 'speed-mode'.

- + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - +

Var dropped out of 'speed-mode' back on the bridge of his ship. Since coming to earth and discovering his unique abilities, he had never spent such an extended period 'down under'. Working as a team, it had taken him and Clark almost a subjective thirty four hours to located and remove all five hundred forty seven survivors from the Hitler's crew. Thirty four hours of almost constant use of their heat vision to cut through the seemingly endless steel walls and bulkheads of the great ship. Turning to gaze at the battleship still suspended next to the other flying craft, Var could see how its superstructure was riddled with holes not unlike that earth delicacy - Swiss cheese. The main hull with its super-thick steel skin didn't show much evidence from their activity. No, they had quickly found it was faster and easier to bring everyone out through the holes in the thinner superstructure than to waste a lot of time and effort burning holes through the hull.

As Var looked at the scene visible a mile away through the transparent viewport, he heard a sharp 'God in Heaven' exclamation in German from Gretchen. He spared her only a brief glance before turning his attention forward again. It was not everyday, even on Krypton that you got to see a great ship like the Hitler crash down into the ocean from such a great height.

Slowly the battleship began its final descent. At first its superstructure had been on the same level as the nearby bright red flying dreadnought. Then it fell to where the first aft gun turret was parallel and then the second gun turret was parallel. Finally, after about five seconds the very stern of the battleship was parallel with the other ship. Var quickly did the math in his head and knew it would only take about eighteen more seconds for the earth's gravity to finish the job of pulling the great battleship down to the ocean's surface as it completed its ultimate death plunge.

Var heard Hank and Marion rise to their feet, but after Gretchen's initial remark no one broke the silence while the great ship was still visible.

From its initial vertical position, the Hitler knifed straight down to its doom. Still prow first, it entered the water like an Olympic high-diver. Almost no splash was visible until the mighty ship was gone and then a fountain of water almost a thousand feet tall briefly marked its finally resting place.

The four people on the bridge of Var's ship continued to stare down at the ocean for a few seconds until all traces of the ship were gone and the natural pattern of waves once more marched unbroken across the surface of the sea.

Marion, who had been deep below decks during the entire exchange between the German battleships and had never heard of the magnificent flying ships, stared around herself in wonder. She also had never experienced Clark's 'speed-mode' before either. Oh, she had undergone sudden shifts while in the mind-link thing with Lana and Laura, but this she knew was real. One moment they had been down in the sinking battleship and now they were here, apparently flying high above the ocean.

Marion clutched Hank's hand and whispered. "Where are we?"

Hank introduced Gretchen and Var-El and explained how they had come to be on the alien's ship out here over the Baltic. He also explained briefly about Clark's Vulcan transported device and how it could move people instantly from place to place.

Var listened to Hank's explanation and found himself slowly shaking his head. If only the device Hank was describing really existed, he thought, it would have been much easier to rescue all of the survivors from the battleship then all of the hard work he and Clark had gone through. But then he understood Clark's desire to not reveal all of his abilities, Var wished he hadn't revealed any of his 'gifts' to the Germans either.

As Hank's explanation to Marion wound down, he turned to Var. "Does the Vulcan race really exist on another planet? I know now that Clark arrived here via a time machine. Is his transporter device really from the future?"

Var shrugged. "You are going to have to ask Clark. If he brought the device with him from the future and didn't want to admit it, I am sure he has a very good reason."

Hank glanced around. "Where is Clark? He was down in the battleship with us."

Hank gestured over to the only other thing visible in the sky. "He is over there. We raised the battleship to make it easier to off-load the survivors onto the other ship. Once we have transported everyone back to land, we are going to destroy that German vessel. The Nazis are not supposed to have the technology found on that ship."

Hank looked back out at the bright red flying ship holding position about a mile away. When the battleship had been suspended adjacent to it, he had been able to get a sense of its size. And it was big. Oh the shape was completely different, but the total size was similar to the battleship. If it was anything like a normal battleship, it would have a crew in the hundreds plus all of the survivors from the sunken ship. How could one man maintain control against that many hostile men? But then he remembered it was Clark he was thinking about, the boy with all of the remarkable toys.

After staring at the other ship for a few minutes, they all saw it start to move off. Quickly, Var climbed back into the command chair and directed his ship to follow the course Clark was setting back to land.

Part 4

Clark stood beside Hank, Marion, and Gretchen on the bridge of Var's ship and, god, did he feel tired. Var's plan to cause the evacuation of Peenemunde hadn't been nearly as successful as he had hoped. When they arrived over the base after off-loading the Deutschland's crew and the Hitler's survivors ten miles down the coast, they had discovered there were still several thousand people on the base. It had taken what felt like over a week of continuous effort in 'speed-mode' to get all of those people to safety. The only highlight of that whole time was coming across a very young Wernher von Braun on one of the rocket test stands. With all the death and destruction his V-1 and V-2 rockets would cause during the upcoming war, it had been very tempting to leave him behind. But Clark's whole purpose was to not screw up the timeline. Besides which Braun would later play an important part in the American space program. But other than that one brief bit of excitement, it had been long, dull time trapped in 'speed-mode'. Now at least it was all almost over.

Var had moved his ship back out over the ocean about five miles from the base, but had raised their position to almost twenty thousand feet so they would have a good view. Clark had just flown back from the German's ship and knew its end was only five seconds away.

"Five . . . Four . . . Three . . . Two . . . One," counted down Clark quietly. Then a brilliant flash lit the sky as the earth experienced it most powerful man-made explosion until the development of the atomic bomb still nine years in the future. The flash of light was followed by a massive shockwave and then by the giant mushroom cloud typical of all large explosions.

It only took a few seconds for the shockwave to reach their position but the _Wegthor's Shadow_'s powerful anti-gravity drive allowed only the smallest buffet through before damping it out entirely.

"Well, hopefully all technical knowledge the Germans had about my ship was just destroyed," stated Var as he perused the readings from his ship's sensors. On the human measurement scale the blast had measured 6.7 kilotons.

Clark merely nodded. He didn't have access to Var's sensitive equipment, but his powerful vision told him most of the base had been destroyed. It would take the Germans months to rebuild.

This was the first time Clark had been in their presence since Whitney's death back aboard the battleship. Marion turned to him and quietly asked, "Who is Sliviuh? I know when Whitney mentioned the name you recognized it."

Clark turned and looked at her. She knew about the time machine and must have gotten the information from Lana. He had been careful to avoid revealing that over the past few days he had spent with Hank, but suddenly it didn't seem to matter. Who would believe them if they told of recent events? And they surely believed he was from a much more distant future than a mere sixty-five years. Hank and Marion both looked close to forty which would make them over one hundred if they survived to his time. The only one present who might survive until then was Gretchen and even she would eighty. So Clark decided after everything they had been through, they had earned a little of the truth.

"You know about Laura, but did Lana ever explain about Laura and Chloe?"

"Just that Chloe has lived almost forever and that Laura is sort of a copy of her mind that coexists in Lana's mind," answered Marion.

Clark nodded as he noticed the suddenly curious expressions on Hank's, Gretchen's, and even Var's faces. "Chloe was born 17,000 years ago and is the last survivor of a long forgotten advanced civilization which existed before the last ice age. Some kind of man-made accident occurred which wiped out that civilization. Chloe had just been given an experimental treatment when the end came – a treatment which made her effectively immortal – never aging beyond sixteen years old and with the ability to instantly heal from any injury.

"But she was effectively left alone. The subsequent ice age dropped the worldwide population from billions to only the low millions. As mankind slowly rose back from the abyss, Chloe's vast experience general kept her near the top of any civilization she joined. But over time as she continually outlived her families and friends, it took a toll on her mental state. Near the end of the ice age, when the Atlantis civilization was at its peak, something happened to her and her family and well, something snapped."

Clark hated thinking about this aspect of Chloe as it was so unlike the girl he knew and loved. But if he was going to figure out a way to help Lana, he was going to have to admit to himself that it was true.

"At the time Chloe was going by the name, Sliviuh. She used her gifts of instant healing and the ability to take control of anyone's mind she had shared blood with to take control of the Atlantian civilization. Then she proceeded to subjugate the whole world. And apparently she thought of herself as a god or at least so far above normal men that she felt it was her right to do anything she wanted to them. She killed and tortured individuals. She wiped out whole cities and nations. For three hundred years she ruled the planet with an iron fist."

Marion felt her skin suddenly go all cold and clammy. "What stopped her in the end?"

Clark thought back to the conversation they had had in Rome and realized Chloe never explained what had ended her reign of terror and returned her to normal. "I don't know, Marion. At the time she mentioned Sliviuh to me, Chloe never explained that part of the story and other things were going on that were more urgent and I never asked. The important thing is that if Lana thinks she is Sliviuh, then she is probably the most power-mad person who has ever existed. And she has all Chloe's abilities to life forever and instantly heal plus 17,000 years worth of experience on which to draw."

"And," interjected Hank. "She has one of the Samson braids. So she is also one of the strongest people ever."

Damn, thought Clark. He hadn't known about the braid. But he had defeated men with braids before. It might make them strong, but it didn't give them his great speed. Of course, the men with Samson braids he had come up against didn't know about all of his abilities, but Lana/Laura/Sliviuh did. How was he going to stop her? And more importantly, how was he going to force the Sliviuh personality out of her mind and restore Lana?

Clark stared out at the devastated remains of Peenemunde and suddenly felt all alone. Chloe and Lex were lying back in his storm cellar near death and he still didn't know how to save them. Whitney was dead and probably lying at the bottom of the ocean in the wreckage of the battleship unless he could figure out how to use the time machine to retrieve him. And Lana, the girl he had dreamed about for years, might suddenly be the most powerful, dangerous opponent he had ever faced. With her gifts and knowledge, all the meteor freaks he had come up against, combined, would be like nothing compared to her.

His shoulders slumping under the enormous weight he suddenly felt, Clark glanced over to Hank.

"How long until the opening ceremonies?"

Doctor Henry Jones, Jr. glanced down at his watch which had miraculously survived the day's events. "Four hours."

End of Chapter 19

------------

Author's Notes

Whew! I had set myself the goal that I was going to have this chapter finished before the new Superman movie comes out. To meet that goal I ended up writing over 6,000 words in the past two days – way over my normal output. Fortunately, this chapter has been gestating in my head for a long time and therefore writing it went easier than many of the chapters.

So what does everyone think? Did I achieve an action sequence on the scale of what the best minds of Hollywood could do with millions of dollars at their disposal? I guess I will find out on Friday, as I already have my tickets for the IMAX. (Superman in 3-D, does it get any better than that?)

Have a great day,

Duane


	20. Chapter 20

9/8/06

Biological Families

Chapter 20

Part 1

Adjusting his tie, Clark stared at his reflection in the mirror in Var El's suite aboard his great ship, Wegthor's Shadow. The suit, which he had retrieved during the evacuation of Peenemunde from where he had left it in the car by Var's old hangar building, still fit exactly the same as it had when he had last worn it twelve hours earlier, yet something in the mirror seemed different. Finally after staring for a few seconds, Clark decided it wasn't the suit that had changed but rather himself. He had read in books about a 'hollowness in the eyes', but had never understood the phrase before. Now it seemed like he was seeing it and it reflected a hollowness in his heart.

He had been through bleak times before, but this time felt different. Back in ancient Rome when he had arrived in the arena and discovered Chloe and Lana's lifeless bodies, he had gone so deeply into shock his new-found heat vision had run amuck. But that time Chloe had returned to save him and even though Laura had ended up Lana's body, for Clark at least, things had quickly returned to 'normal'.

Then when Chloe and Lex were stricken back in the storm cellar, events had been happening so quickly with Lana, Whitney, and the tornado and then the trip through the time machine, he hadn't had time to dwell on the situation and besides, Lana and Whitney had been there for support.

But now Whitney was dead and Lana had disappeared through the time machine leaving him feeling very much alone. Oh, Hank, Marion, Var, and Gretchen were here, but they all belonged here in the past and weren't a part of his 'real' life. No, this was the first time he had ever been truly on his own and he had to find the strength to soldier on. Oh, he could always just escape to home, but if he didn't see things through, doing everything just right, he might lose all of his most important friends forever.

A sharp knock at the door broke through his bleak, gloomy thoughts.

"Clark, are you ready? Var says we're almost in position," called Hank's voice through the intercom mounted next to the door.

At first Clark wondered why Var hadn't just sent the message straight from his command chair, but then he realized Var must have understood what Clark was going through and the importance of the personal, physical touch. Of course, who better than Var to understand since Var himself had been cutoff from everyone he knew and loved for years.

Giving one last tug to adjust the suit's left sleeve, Clark picked up his fedora hat and walked over to the door. With a light touch on the adjacent control panel, the door smoothly and quietly slid open revealing the similarly civilian attired Doctor Jones.

Hank took one look at Clark's face and then threw an arm over the younger man's shoulder in a fatherly gesture.

"Come on, Clark. You'll get through this. We all lose friends at some point. It always seems hard, but you have to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Eventually it becomes . . . ah . . . bearable," said Hank, as he guided Clark back onto the bridge with its panoramic view through the seemingly transparent dome.

Clark heard the concern in Hank's voice and realized he had let his thoughts get him down further than they should. Nothing at this point was truly lost. Oh, from the perspective of the others Whitney was dead and gone, but they didn't have access to a time machine like he did. No, by using the time machine Whitney's rescue was still within his reach. Although like a line of dominoes, everything had to occur in the correct sequence. Before he could go after Whitney, he first needed to save Lana or Chloe; both to have a way to heal Whitney's body and for the help he would need in running the time machine.

While rescuing Whitney wouldn't need the split-second timing required to grab Lana's parents from a crowded street just as the meteor hit; the timing would still be tricky. He had used his x-ray vision from the bridge of the Nazis' flying battleship, Deutschland, to watch and count off the eighteen second window they had during the plunge of the battleship from where he had lofted it next to the Deutschland until it impacted the surface of the sea. So they had a nice fat window to open a portal and pull Whitney's body through. No, having time to retrieve him wasn't the challenging part, but rather determining when the window should open was going to be the problem. Chloe had mentioned using sophisticated atomic clocks and high-speed cameras to determine the exact timing for Lana's parents. But he didn't have any atomic clocks and the clocks scattered around the two German ships he had seen during his 'speed mode' rescue of the Hitler's crew had varied by three or four minutes. Lana's internal 'bot clock should provide the accurate timing they would need, so even if he rescued Chloe first, they might still have to wait until they somehow restored Lana to control of her body before they made an attempt to rescue Whitney. For a moment Clark pondered the impact to Whitney's life if they couldn't rescue him until after he was due to report to the Marines. But then he couldn't help but shake his head; late was most definitely better than dead.

As the two men walked out of the corridor leading from Var's quarters and moved further under the high arching dome, the brilliant blue light filling the bridge helped to lift Clark's spirits. Looking out, Clark saw a solid layer of clouds far below. But from their current position above the clouds, the view seemed to stretch on for ever and ever. In his sixteen years Clark had seldom flown anywhere by plane. But he simply knew they were well above the height passenger jets of his own era flew. And they were way, way higher than the mile or so he had gone since discovering his ability to fly.

"How high are we?" he asked as he reached a position beside Var's command chair.

Var in turned glanced out to take in the view as he did the conversion from Kryptonese to English units in his head. "About eighty-five thousand feet, I want to park the ship well out of reach of any German weapons. And hopefully, at this altitude no one on the ground will even see this ship."

Eighty-five thousand feet, over fifteen miles straight up, repeated Clark in his head. He remembered from somewhere that NASA and the Air Force gave astronaut wings to anyone who went over a hundred thousand feet. Were they that close to the edge of space? When he glanced up, the sky directly overhead was a distinctly darker shade of blue than the color nearer the horizon.

"So, you are just going to leave your ship hovering up here?" asked Hank who had followed Clark over.

"That is my plan. I believe the ship's brain and I have located all of the Germans' attempts at sabotage. If not, I have a communication device the ship can use to reach me in an emergency. Of course, that assumes Clark's transporter device has sufficient range to deliver us safely to the ground from here."

Clark glanced over at the older Kryptonian, who sat in his command chair looking subtly wrong in a dark gray business suit also scrounged from Peenemunde rather than his own light silvery-gray lab coat. While still in 'speed mode' during the rescue operation, they had agreed it was best for everyone if their ability to fly remained a secret.

"Yeah," responded Clark. "It will be fine since we will be going straight down through air rather than having to penetrate through rock or other dense materials. And having the coordinates of our house in the Olympic Village further simplifies things."

"What are we waiting for then?" asked Gretchen, who had joined the three men at the command chair.

Clark looked over at her. Ever since the destruction of the two great Nazi ships and the devastating explosion at Peenemunde, she had been in remarkably good humor. But since the Nazis had killed her father right in front of her only hours before Clark had first met her, she had had a right to be in a dark vengeful mood. He wondered how disappointed she would be if she ever found out no one at Peenemunde had been killed. Well, he decided, no reason to bring the topic up. It would only open up one more Pandora's Box worth of questions.

"Nothing," answered Clark with a sweep of his arm indicating they should step away from the command chair to a spot near Marion.

After Var made some final adjustments to the controls, he climbed down and joined them.

Clark pulled out his communicator and appeared to fiddle with it for a few seconds. "Okay, all set. Now, if everyone will close their eyes, the transition will be less jarring."

Dutifully, Gretchen, Hank, and Marion closed their eyes. Immediately, Var and Clark shifted into 'speed-mode'.

"How do you want to do this?" asked Clark.

Var glanced quickly at the others as they stood frozen in place. "How about you take Gretchen and I'll take Marion. I'll follow you down since you know where we are going. Then I'll come back for Hank while you scout out the area around this house where you are staying to make sure there aren't any surprises waiting for us when we revert to 'normal mode'."

Clark grinned, "Sounds like a plan."

Carefully, Clark picked up Gretchen and carried her to the grav-shaft, beginning the route to the main exit on the lower surface of the central sphere he had come to use so many times in the twelve hours of 'real time' which had passed since he had boarded the ship for the first time. Although as a result of the huge amounts of time he had spent in 'speed-mode' the twelve hours felt closer to two weeks. As he strode rapidly down the painting-lined corridor on the lowest level of Var's ship, he couldn't help but momentarily shake his head. To anyone not directly involved, like his Mom and Dad, it was barely eight days since he first passed through the portal on his way to ancient Rome. But between the time travel and the extended periods in 'speed-mode', from his personal perspective that day was almost two months in the past.

As he reached the exit, where one more step would lead to an almost limitless drop, Clark forced himself to focus on what was coming up rather than what had already passed. They could be about to step into a Nazi trap, as the Gestapo surely must have made the connection between Hank, Marion, and the rest of them by now. And there were potentially three more of the Samson braids still in Nazi hands. Oh, they would not be the slightest inconvenience while he and Var were in 'speed-mode', but they had caught him off-guard before. For a moment he almost regretted leaving the one Whitney had been wearing with his body back on the battleship. If he hadn't, Gretchen could now have the same protection Hank and Marion enjoyed. But it was too late to worry about that, he would just have to keep a careful eye on her.

Probably as a result of the stress of losing the last of his 'true' friends, Clark's mind seemed to race from one topic to the next. It wasn't until he leapt out into the void below Var's ship that he finally seemed able to relax a little. He had only discovered his ability to fly three days earlier, but already it was almost like an addiction. He couldn't wait to get home and share his ability with Chloe once this current mess was resolved. But then a frown crossed his face as he remembered he could only fly while in 'speed-mode'. How would he ever be able to explain the feeling in mere words, if Chloe would always be frozen in time whenever they shared the experience? But then a potential source to answer his question suddenly appeared flying in formation next to him.

Clark glanced over to where Var lightly held Marion Jones' body in his arms while matching Clark's steep descent. "Var, is it possible to fly in 'normal mode'? I can only seem to do it in 'speed mode'."

Var returned Clark's glance. "Be glad you can do it in 'speed-mode', it is a distinct advantage to be invisible and able to hide your presence. And how would we have been able to save all those people on the ships and at the base, otherwise?"

"Oh, I am not complaining. I recognize the advantages," Clark answered quickly. "But I would like to be able to share the experience with my girlfriend, Chloe."

"Ah, I see your point. It will be hard for Salva to believe what we can do here without her experiencing it for herself. I have never really thought about it before. Let me think for a second."

Clark watched as Var's eyes turned inward while he explored the problem. After a moment, Clark turned his gaze back down towards the cloud layer which still seemed a long way below. He had just spotted an unusual metallic silver dot glimmering above the clouds near the horizon when Var again spoke.

"Clark, I don't know if it is possible to fly in 'normal mode'," began Var.

Clark felt himself sag a little in response before Var continued.

"However I think I see a solution which should achieve the desired effect."

Clark looked directly into Var's eyes and then lifted his eyebrows in a pleading expression. Var quickly grinned.

"Okay, I'll explain. You know how you push your body deeper and deeper into 'speed-mode' when you need to amplify the time dilation effect like when we evacuated the thousands of people from Peenemunde in a tiny fraction of a second of 'real time'?"

Clark nodded.

"Well, you just need to learn to do the exact opposite. I mean you need to figure out how to go as shallow as possible into 'speed-mode'. It should be theoretically possible to shift so slightly out-of-phase that no one will notice you are doing it. So not only will your girlfriend be able to fly with you, you should be able to appear to hover to anyone on the ground. Although that would seem to risk exposing your gifts about the same as . . . oh . . . lifting a giant battleship into the sky?"

Clark stared at Var wondering why he hadn't thought of it himself. For once Var said it, the solution to his question suddenly seemed so obvious. For a second he was almost tempted to try it right then, but remembered Gretchen in his arms. She might not appreciate finding herself apparently in freefall thousands of feet from the ground. But he definitely wanted to see if he could do it or at least start practicing it at the first opportunity.

With a stupid grin spreading across his face, Clark nodded his thanks. Then feeling a need for a couple minutes of fun before getting down to the true business of the day, Clark gestured to the silver object off to their right and still thousands of feet below them.

"Var, let's check it out before we head down."

Var looked in the direction Clark indicated and saw a vast flying ship. For an instant a shiver of concern shot through him. Had the Germans already built more than one of the flying dreadnoughts? Were there more ships and bases he would have to destroy before it would be safe for him to go home?

But when he turned his x-ray vision onto this new ship, he found something completely different. This ship was light and delicate. Unlike their previous opponent with its many inches thick armored hull, this one appeared to be made of fabric stretched over a very light weight framework.

His curiosity aroused, Var changed direction and knifed down towards the ship which seemed to be floating just above the clouds. Quickly, Clark turned to follow and the pair raced down.

Clark had quickly recognized the ship as one of the lighter-than-air dirigibles of this era. As they approached he first was able to see the giant Nazi flags adorning the tail fins. This was one of the famous Zeppelins like the one from the final Indiana Jones movie. Was this the same one depicted in the movie, he wondered briefly? Then he almost stopped flying in surprise as they swept under the prow and the giant black lettering proclaiming it to be the 'Hindenburg' came into view.

Clark's knowledge and memories of the nineteen-thirties were hazy like most modern Americans. Oh, he clearly remembered the infamous 'Oh, the horror' footage of the hydrogen filled ship burning and crashing in New Jersey. But the long ago events had become blurred and in his memory the Hindenburg had been destroyed on its maiden voyage like the Titanic. While in truth, the passenger ship had been in trans-Atlantic service for almost exactly one year when its end came. Now, in its third month of operation and nine months before it would meet its ultimate fate, the Hindenburg was heading to the Olympic opening ceremonies as part of the Nazis' grand display.

Flying along the underside of the mighty ship only feet from its hull, the ship seemed to stretch before Clark almost forever. Oh, he knew its length was in the same range as the great battleship he had hoisted into the air and its weight must be less than one percent of its counterpart, but the clean, simple lines of the craft made it seem even bigger.

Then they were flying passed the long, long row of canted windows which lined the ship's lowest deck. Looking in, Clark could see the railing lined with people looking out, seemingly right at him. For a moment he was tempted to slow and see if he really could hover in plain sight just to see their reactions. But quickly he came to his senses, the Nazis had enough unexplained events to ponder with the loss of their two great ships and the destruction of most of their base at Peenemunde; he didn't need to provide any more ammunition by being seen to fly by hundreds of people.

Therefore he followed behind Var as the older man swept aft along the fuselage, passed the giant engine nacelles with their props frozen in place due to the 'speed-mode' effect, and then on passed the large fabric covered rudder.

Var swept passed the tail of the dirigible and then looped up to make a pass running forward along the ship's upper surface. As he proceeded, he slowed enough so that Clark could pull up along side.

"I have never seen a ship like this. Oh, I have heard talk about them, but never seen one for myself. So this giant craft truly just floats through the air?" asked Var.

Clark nodded. "Yeah, although I have to admit I have never seen one before either. They are filled with a special lighter-than-air gas which provides enough lift to compensate for the weight of the craft. But they are very fragile and dangerous. They were only used intermittently for about twenty years. And almost all of these types of crafts were lost due to weather or fire. They were exceedingly dangerous and when other long range aircraft became available, they quickly fell out of service. So by my era these craft had been regulated to the history books for a long, long time."

"I have no recollection of any similar craft being developed on Krypton," said Var. "If they were it must date to a time before we even had history books. Or perhaps the different physical aspects of Krypton, which give us the incredible abilities we have here, makes this type of craft impossible back home."

Clark nodded again although rather than in concurrence, this time it was more an acknowledgement of how limited his knowledge of his homeworld still was.

As they once again reached the prow of the craft, Var said. "I think it is time we focus on what we came for."

Clark knew he was right and taking the lead he turned them back down and quickly passed into the cloud layer. The special field which enveloped them while in 'speed-mode' prevented them or their passengers from getting wet during their passage through the clouds. When they broke through the cloud layer, a light mist filled the air for the remaining three thousand feet to the ground. Clark found himself hoping the whole day wasn't going to be rainy and drizzly. It seemed like the opening of the Olympics should call for a bright and sunny day.

Quickly Clark scanned the ground below. It took a moment to become oriented as he still wasn't used to thinking in 'aerial view' mode. But then he found the landmark he needed, the long, straight Olympicstrasse joining the two large venues. Var's aim with picking the spot to anchor his ship was good; they were less than a mile south of their destination in the Olympic village.

Swooping down, Clark descended until he was less than twenty feet above the broad main boulevard. Tracing his way north, he followed the boulevard for four blocks until reaching the cross-street leading to 'his' house. As he made the turn, he glanced back down the mile of street between his current position and the stadium where the opening ceremony would be held. Already the street was closed to vehicular traffic and was completely jammed with people making their way south. Intermixed with the crowds of tourists he could already make out numerous clumps of people all dressed in similarly colored attire. Obviously, many of the Olympic participants and their coaches were en route to the festivities. Had the American team already departed, Clark wondered. Of course, did it even matter? No, the important thing was ensuring Hank received the package Chloe had seen in her shared memories from his ship. It was both necessary to close the time loop and hopefully useful in finding a solution to Chloe and Lex's condition.

Performing a more thorough scan of the crowd between his location and the stadium, Clark didn't find any large clumps of people dressed in the dark blue blazers and white 'Buster Keaton' style straw hats he knew the American team would be wearing. As his motion swept him further down the cross-street until most of the Olympicstrasse Boulevard was out view, Clark swung his view back forward. As the five blocks, which separated his house from the main street, glided past beneath him, he saw the crowds start to thin. By the time he reached the large chalet style structure, which had housed Whitney, him, and twenty-eight other athletes from the American team for most of the past week, the crowd seemed to have disappeared. Although there was still a big difference between uncrowded and actually empty of people. It was definitely going to take a little work to find a spot where they could drop out of 'speed-mode' without appearing to simply materialize out of thin air in front of bystanders.

Clark nodded towards the house to indicate to Var their destination and then climbed twenty feet higher before circling around the building in search of a sheltered spot to deposit the women. After his second loop, he decided the best spot was behind a small utility building about thirty feet behind the main structure. The smaller building would prevent anyone in the house from seeing them and the two rows of trees should do the same for people looking out of the windows of the adjacent houses.

As he gently stood Gretchen back on her feet, Var deposited Marion beside him.

"Clark, scout out the area while I go back for Hank," reminded Var.

Clark barely had time to nod his head in agreement before Var leapt back into the air. Clark paused for a moment to watch Var's retreating form. Even though he had logged a lot of flight time in the past three days, it still seemed strange to watch from the vantage point of the ground as someone else did it. Strange, but still way cool.

It felt like only a few seconds before Var dwindled to a small black dot which then disappeared into the clouds. Once Var was no longer visible, Clark turned his attention back to his surroundings. Moving at slightly less than a flat-out run, he did a quick tour around the outside of the house to look for anything unusual which he may have overlooked from above. Not finding anything, he made his way over to back door of the house.

The back entrance led into the communal kitchen. The house had a full-time cook as part of its staff, but the kitchen was also open for the athletes at all hours due to their widely varied schedules for practice sessions as well as the upcoming competitions. However at the moment the room's only occupants were the cook and one of the maids. Both of the women were frozen by the sink where they were cleaning up from the noon meal. Seeing nothing of interest, Clark quickly proceeded on with his inspection of the house.

A quick tour of the main floor, which included the dining room, large living room, and six bedrooms, showed nothing unusual. Moving on, Clark proceeded upstairs to where the remaining ten bedrooms were located. Leaving the room he had shared with Whitney for last, he inspected the other bedrooms first. Feeling almost a little disappointed, he didn't find hordes of black-clad Gestapo agents lurking in any of the bedrooms or bathrooms. He used his x-ray vision to check for listening devices, but didn't see anything electrical except for the phones and the normal wall wiring, at least nothing that to his untrained eye looked out-of-the-ordinary.

Finally, convinced the rest of the house was clear, Clark moved on to the room he had shared with Whitney for most of the past week - and for the past couple of days with Hank and Gretchen, too.

Stepping into the room, it looked the same as when he had last seen it. Was that only the previous afternoon? Less than twenty-four hours earlier? With the trip to Peenemunde, the discovery of Var and his Kryptonian heritage, the battle with the German ships, and the destruction of the Nazi base, it certainly felt like a lot longer than twenty-four hours.

Seeing nothing immediately out-of-place, Clark quickly followed the procedure he had employed with the other bedrooms on this floor using his x-ray vision to check the closet, bathroom, and even under the bed. But just like the other rooms, he found nothing. Either the Nazis had been a lot more subtle than he expected or else there was simply nothing here. Was it possible the Nazis hadn't made the connection between them and the events up north? Thinking about it, Clark realized the Nazis would very severely limit knowledge of the loss of their two latest super-toys as well as the large military base. Perhaps so strictly, only the highest levels here in Berlin had yet to hear. So if the news hadn't trickled down to the lowest field operations level, then the worker-bee level would only have the potential connection between Hank's sudden appearance in the Olympic Village and the events back at the chateau. And since that had been several days in the past, it probably wasn't enough to suddenly trigger any action while they had been gone.

Clark still intended to check out the immediate neighborhood before officially declaring the area clear and reverting to 'normal mode', but he was feeling a lot better with this house being free of any activity by their German opposition. Therefore he allowed himself a moment to scan the contents of the room. As, depending on how things played out at the stadium, he wasn't certain if he would ever be returning here.

The room with a solitary window looking out across the front lawn was furnished with two double beds, a desk, and a small table with two chairs. But it wasn't the furnishings which had come with the room that interested Clark. No, it was the small collection of mementoes of their visit to the Olympics they accumulated. The whole Olympic pin craze was still many decades in the future, but there were still plenty of souvenirs to be had. A couple of commemorative beer steins were sitting on the table as well as a rolled-up copy of the official Olympic poster. But what Clark was really looking for was still sitting on the corner of the desk. Walking over, he picked up the small stack of photos. A photographer for the Hearst newspaper chain had been present their first morning when Whitney had run the 200 meter race which had earned his position on the team. Just the morning before, the photographer, Sam Eccleston, had tracked them down to present them with copies.

Now Clark thumbed through them slowly and felt tears once again welling up in his eyes. The top photo in the stack showed Whitney crossing the finish line with Owens and Metcalfe clearly trailing in the distance. The next was a candid shot of the three racers standing in a group catching their breath. Then there was a shot of Lana giving Whitney a post-race hug with Clark standing immediately behind the pair. The remainder of the shots were a random assortment of Clark throwing the javelin and Lana talking to the coaches. But it was the one of Lana hugging Whitney which tore the most at Clark's heart. The end of that race was maybe the happiest moment they had experienced since they had been back here. And look at things now – Whitney was dead and Lana was lost under the control of an ancient evil incarnation of Chloe.

Finally, Clark slipped the photos into his jacket pocket. His eyes swept the room one more time, but the photos were the only things present that mattered to him. Hopefully, one day he would be able to share them once more with Whitney and Lana.

Clark had started towards the bedroom door when he remembered the one other thing they needed from the room. Turning back, he returned to the desk and pulled open the center drawer. Reaching down, he pulled out his and Whitney's identification badges which indicated they were members of the team. Then he grabbed the three guest seating tickets they had acquired for Hank, Marion, and Gretchen for the opening ceremonies. They had arranged the tickets after rescuing Hank from the chateau when they already had Gretchen in tow. At the time Marion and Lana were still missing, but they had gone ahead and gotten a ticket for Marion in hopes they would find her in time. Of course, thought Clark, they hadn't realized they would need a fourth guest pass at the time for Var.

But thinking back to Chloe's comments back in the storm cellar, his presence suddenly made more sense. Chloe had said she had seen an image from whatever was attacking her of Dr. Jones receiving the artifact from the German Luftwaffe Major. How could that image have gotten into Clark's ship if someone hadn't been there to witness the exchange? And since the image had to have been in Clark's ship since before it had left Krypton, the witness had to be from there. So it followed that the presence of Var or someone like him was necessary at today's events to bring the timeloop full circle.

However that suddenly left them with four guests and three guest passes. Someone was going to have to use Whitney's team member pass to get into the stadium. Hmm, the passes didn't have photos like modern ID badges, just the person's name and team. Looking at the team pass again, Clark noticed they didn't even bother with the full name, just a first initial and last name, so any of the others could pass as W. Fordman.

Hank definitely needed one of the guest passes as they had already arranged where he would be meeting Major Eckmann to retrieve the artifact. So either Var, Marion, or Gretchen would have to use Whitney's ID.

If they were going to use the team IDs to enter the stadium, they were going to have to be 'in costume'. Moving over the closet, Clark exchanged his dark gray suit coat for his blue blazer and then his fedora for the white flat-top straw hat. He had never worn hats other than the occasional baseball cap. It had taken a few days to adjust to the look of the fedora, but he had finally come to like it. But looking at himself in the mirror, he simply hated the look of the team hat. No matter what angle he tried, he always ended up looking like an idiot. A stupid fucking idiot. Maybe it was a good thing no one else from home was going to be at the stadium today.

As he retrieved the photos from his suit coat, Clark contemplated a stop back at the house after going to the stadium, if for no other reason than to retrieve the suit coat. Oh, the suit might not pass for the most current style back home, but at least he would feel a lot more comfortable than showing up in the straw hat.

Picking up Whitney's blazer, he realized the first choice for wearing it had to be Var. He was a little taller than Whitney's six-three and probably carried thirty pounds more muscle, but he should be able to squeeze into it. Of course, the downside of that solution was it left both Clark and Var down on the field when the action would be taking place up in the stands. It really seemed like one of them should be closer in case things turned ugly and the Germans tried anything.

Perhaps if she rolled up the sleeves and pinned up her hair, Gretchen could pretend to be part of the team. The American team was certainly large enough so everyone wouldn't be known by sight. And Gretchen should be safer down among team members, too. The Nazis might grab an individual or two from the crowded stands, but they would hardly grab someone from the middle of several hundred Americans. The more he thought about it, the better the idea of hiding Gretchen among the American team seemed to be. Particularly since she didn't have one of the Samson braids either.

With some of the details starting to gel in his mind, Clark took one last look around the room to see if he had forgotten anything else important and then forced his pace back up to a run as he headed back out of the house. In only moments he had toured for three blocks in all directions scanning all of the buildings with his x-ray vision. In only two of the houses had he discovered large clumps of people. But in both cases when he investigated, they were merely teams from smaller countries gathering before heading to the stadium as a group.

When he finally got back to the spot where he had left the women, he found Var had already returned with Hank.

"Been waiting long?" he asked the older Kryptonian.

"No, while I was waiting I experimented a little with varying how deep I was in 'speed-mode' and slowed it to where I have only been waiting for a couple of seconds. Is the area clear?"

"Yeah," answered Clark. "I searched a three block area and didn't see anything."

"Well, then I guess it is time to rejoin our companions."

Clark nodded and then the pair reverted to 'normal-mode'.

"Okay," began Clark. "You can open your eyes now."

Hank and the two women slowly opened their eyes and then glanced around taking in their surroundings. The motion of their eyes forced Clark to follow suit. When he looked around everything seemed slightly different then when he had been doing his speed mode tour of the neighborhood. Perhaps it was the background noise of birds chirping, leaves rustling, or the faint hint of bands playing in the distance; as compared to the almost complete silence of the altered dimension he had been inhabiting. Or perhaps it was the steady drizzle which was suddenly coating his clothes, hat, and hands. Or perhaps it was something else. Regardless, this sheltered spot behind the house felt a lot drearier than the sunlight-filled bridge of Var's ship.

But then the gloomy mood that was threatening to reassert its hold on Clark was broken by Gretchen.

"Cute hat, Clark," she said with a grin that clearly implied she felt it was anything but 'cute'.

"I'm glad you like it," Clark began with a grin of his own. Then he lifted the hat and coat he had been carrying. "Here's yours. Sorry if they are a little large, but since we only have three tickets for guest seating for the opening ceremonies, you are going to have to wear Whitney's hat and jacket and pretend to be part of the American team."

The grin faded just a little from her face as she accepted the hat and then turned it over in her hands a couple of time before setting it on her head. Immediately, the hat which had been sized for Whitney slid down until it completely covered her forehead and eyebrows and even threaten to cover her eyes.

Clark couldn't help but toss back the 'cute hat' comment as Gretchen tried several different positions and angles for the hat without finding any that truly worked.

Finally she pulled the hat off. "Clark, can you hold this for a minute?" she asked.

Once he had taken the hat, Gretchen turned her back to Marion. "Marion, can you do me a quick braid?"

Marion quickly and efficiently separated Gretchen's long blonde hair into three bundles and wove a simple pattern. After Clark tore a narrow strip from the lining of Whitney's coat to tie of the braid's end, Gretchen wound the braid around the top of her head and then reseated the hat.

After slipping on the oversize jacket and rolling up the sleeves a couple of turns, she did a quick pirouette before turning back towards Clark. Spreading her arms out to her sides, Gretchen executed a small curtsy, and said, "Tada. What do you think? Can I pass for American?"

Clark gave her the once over. The straw hat seemed to work for her much better than it did for him. But then an attractive girl like Gretchen could make almost any article of clothing work.

"Close enough, oh, and if anyone wonders about your accent, tell them your family immigrated to America just after the First World War . . . ah, I mean after the Great War and that you grew up speaking German at home. Growing up with a language other then English spoke at home is common enough in the States that no one should question your accent." Clark mentally kicked himself for the 'First World War' reference. He still remembered his comment to Hank on the first night they had met down in the chateau's dungeon about an upcoming war and now after the events aboard the sinking battleship, Hank also knew about the time machine. Hopefully with all of the excitement of the past few hours, neither Hank, or Marion, or Gretchen would notice his slip of the tongue.

Rather than giving Hank or the others time to think about his comment, Clark handed Hank, Marion, and Var their tickets before continuing, "We should be on our way. The ceremonies start in less than an hour and the American team has already departed for the stadium. We really should try to catch up before the parade of teams begins."

As soon as the others nodded their concurrence, Clark led the way around the side of the house.

Part 2

As Hank led her and Var to their seats, Marion was glad the drizzle had abated for the moment. It had never been hard enough to soak her completely to the bone, but it had been sufficient that many people had been using their umbrellas. If everyone in the stadium was still using theirs it certainly would have spoiled the view.

It had taken them almost twenty minutes to walk to the stadium. Just outside they had passed the staging area for the athletes and Clark and Gretchen had split off to mingle with the American team. It had taken Marion, Hank and their alien guest a further twenty minutes to work their way to their seats. With a mere ten minutes until the start she would have thought they would have been the last to reach their seats, but many others were also straggling in at the last minute.

As they settled into their seats, which were about halfway up and at what would be considered the twenty-yard line if this had been an American football stadium, Marion's eyes swept the stadium. On the opposite side of the stands at mid-field was the dignitaries' box with its wide viewing platform. A number of men in civilian suits and in military attire for the various branches of the German armed forces were milling around. She felt a shiver run through her body at the sight of officers in the dark blue of the German Navy from whose grasp she had escaped only hours before.

Turning her attention down to the field, she saw many white jacketed officials scurrying around getting everything set up for the thousands of athletes who would soon be parading in. Finally, she looked up to top of the stands where hundreds of Nazi flags fluttered in the light breezy. It seemed like she had seen enough of the hated red, white, and black symbols in the past few months to last her a life time. She and Hank were booked to be in Europe for another three weeks, but suddenly she felt the strong urge to return home to the States. While she hadn't spent much time there in the past ten years, now that she and Hank were finally together, she was suddenly ready to settle down and give up the life of high adventure.

For several minutes she allowed herself to daydream about a little white house with a matching picket fence. It wasn't until Hank touched her arm that she noticed the hush which seemed to settle over the crowd and then how everyone seemed to be looking at the large entrance on the south side of the structure. Following their gaze, she spotted Adolf Hitler leading a group of dignitaries out onto the field. They were a long ways away, but she didn't have any problem recognizing his famous light brown military garb. She had really expected he would have been in a civilian suit for this supposedly non-partisan event, but he must be trying to make a point. Or perhaps, she mused, he had been in briefings about events up north in Peenemunde and simply hadn't had time to change.

As she continued to watch, Hitler made his way across the floor of the stadium to the enthusiastic applause of the audience. Half way to the official viewing area, he was met by a young, five or six year old girl in a white dress. Marion shuttered as she watched the little girl perform the straight-armed Nazi salute before presenting him with a small bouquet of white carnations. Marion had heard about the Nazi youth programs, but it still disturbed her to see the reality of the Nazi indoctrination in one so young. Hitler paused to pat the girl on the head in a fatherly manner before accepting the flowers and then preceding on to dignitaries' box.

When Hitler briefly disappeared to make his way up some interior stairs to the box, Marion was finally able to drag her eyes away and once more became aware of her more immediate surroundings. She was sandwiched protectively between Var and Hank with one vacant seat remaining open between Hank and the aisle. Just as the Olympic band struck up the German National anthem to signal Hitler's arrival in his box and the start of the ceremonies, a Luftwaffe Major slid into the vacant seat. As the crowd surged to their feet in honor of the playing of the anthem, Marion took the opportunity to inspect their guest. Like Hank, Horst Eckmann looked to be in his upper thirties or early forties. He was nowhere near as tall as Hank, topping Marion's own five foot eight by a bare inch or two. But at first glance, he projected an image of someone taller, although whether it was due to the gray uniform or his aristocratic bearing, she wasn't sure.

With the close proximity of a German officer, albeit one who was Hank's friend, Marion couldn't prevent her thoughts from returning to her earlier captivity. Were the Nazis still after them? While the anthem continued to play, her eyes danced around the area trying to determine if they were under observation. However it was impossible to tell as the stands were filled with spectators in uniform. And if the Gestapo had people watching them, would they even be in uniform? Anyone from the mother with the two small children three rows in front of them to the elderly couple directly behind them could be there to keep an eye on them.

Slowly Marion forced herself to calm down. There was no reason anyone involved in the events on the battleship or later in Peenemunde would suspect they would head immediately to the opening ceremonies. Hell, unless they flew, everyone involved would still be up north or in the process of making the long drive back to Berlin. And if they were here, she and Hank still had the advantage of the Samson braids. Even now she could feel its power coursing through her body.

Finally, the anthem, which reinforced all of Marion's darkest memories, was finished and the band moved on to the lighter, more uplifting Olympic fanfare. As the crowd started to return to their seats, the Major turned to Hank and extended his hand.

"Doctor Jones, it is good to see you again," the man in uniform began in clear English with only a trace of an accent.

Hank grabbed the offered hand and shook it warmly. "Horst, you are sounding way too formal. Has that gray uniform brainwashed you so soon?"

Eckmann glanced down at his immaculate uniform with its small cluster of ribbons garnered for his years of service in the various South American air forces. "Time passes so fast, Hank. Perhaps too fast, I have already been wearing this uniform for almost eighteen months."

Marion watched Hank nod his head in agreement with the comment about the rapid passage of time. After a moment, he leaned back slightly so Eckmann and Marion could more easily see each other passed him.

"Horst, I would like to present my wife, Marion. Mar, this is my old friend, Major Horst Eckmann."

Eckmann extended his hand passed Hank to Marion. As the German officer leaned closer, Marion got a better look at his face from the light blue eyes to the straight, narrow Prussian nose to the faded blonde hair with a dusting of gray at the temples. Here was a man, thought Marion, who typified the ideal German officer in a way her former captor, Biberach, never could.

After a quick shake of hands, which Marion decided was more polite than friendly, Eckmann turned back to Hank.

"You old dog, where have you been hiding this beauty? You never mentioned her in any of your letters or during our previous meetings."

Marion watched as a big smile swept briefly across Hank's face. It warmed her heart how his fingers automatically sought out and clasped hers.

"Marion and I were friends back in our University days. We lost touch after that until I tracked her down in Tibet a couple of months ago. It didn't take long before we both knew we were meant to be together."

Hank had explained to Marion how he and Horst had worked on several digs together down through the past dozen years. And how Horst would occasionally pass along some artifact he came across in his travels. But while he called the German 'an old friend', their relationship obviously had some limits since Hank didn't go into any details of why he had sought out Marion in Tibet or their subsequent adventure with the Ark of the Covenant.

The first athletic team, the Greeks by long tradition, was starting to make its way into the stadium as the three of them settled down into their seats. Var had taken his seat earlier with the rest of the crowd. During the climb to their seats after separating from Clark and Gretchen, they had decided to pretend Var wasn't with them, but merely the occupant of the adjacent chair. Hank had not wanted to spook Eckmann with too many unknown faces and this would allow Var a little more freedom of movement should it become necessary.

"Hank, I want to thank you for the ticket," continued Eckmann, as the Afghanistan team became the first of forty-seven teams to alphabetically follow the Greek athletes into the stadium before the German host team would bring up the rear of the parade. "I was out of the country earlier in the summer and by the time I got back, it was impossible to get tickets."

"I am glad I could do it, although, truthfully, if we didn't know a couple of the American competitors, we wouldn't have seats either."

"You know some of the competitors?" asked Eckmann.

Hank gave a small shrug and, as Marion listened, a small white lie rolled ever so easily off his tongue. "We are lucky enough to have a couple of really good sprinters at my school. Unfortunately, not everyone has the love of ancient history and antiquities that we do. I am almost ashamed to admit it, but I teach an 'Intro to History' class which is really just an easy 'B' for the football and track jocks at the school on scholarships."

"Don't be embarrassed, Hank," responded Eckmann. "I remember the same thing going on at University over here, too. In fact, I took a few classes like that myself."

The three of them sat in silence while a few more of the teams marched in, circled the outer track once behind the banner proclaiming their country and joined the others in the inner field.

"So, Horst," began Hank getting down to business after what felt like sufficient time had passed to meet the social niceties. "What do you have for me this time?"

"Something unique," began Eckmann as he reached into the deep side pocket of his uniform's jacket. "At least I have never seen anything like it, and I have been through museums and art galleries all over the world."

'Art galleries?' wondered Marion. She thought they were here to pick up some ancient relic from what Clark had said. And few of the broken pieces of pottery Hank had shown her from his personal collection would ever warrant an association with an art gallery. Of course, the better items like the Mayan gold jewelry had been too important and valuable for Hank to keep. So maybe this mysterious object was more along those lines.

But when Eckmann's hand came back out of his pocket, Marion's curiosity was disappointed for a least a moment longer; the object was wrapped in a white silk cloth. All Marion could tell was that the object appeared to be rectangular, about six inches by four inches by a half inch thick.

Marion was glad when Eckmann passed it to Hank to unwrap, because she only had to lean over slightly to have a clear view. Slowly Hank peeled back three layers of silk to reveal the flat object which had a metallic sheen. The color of the metal was sort of a dark shade of silver, but somehow not quite the color of sterling silver seen in most modern jewelry. Yet it didn't have the tarnished look of great age either. No, it looked brand new.

As Hank tilted the object slightly to look at it from different angles, Marion could make out a series of symbols were engraved on the upper surface in circular patterns around two slightly indented areas. The symbols were small enough that she couldn't really make them out while looking over Hank's shoulder.

Next Hank flipped the object over to expose the simple unadorned back. Looking at the various edges, the only irregularity was a small clear crystal embedded in the center of one of the long sides.

Finally, Hank lifted the object up close to his face to peer at the symbols on the top more carefully. When he was done with his initial inspection, he handed it to Marion before turning his attention back to Eckmann.

Marion heard Hank and Eckmann discussing the unknown symbols in the background, but most of her attention was focused on the object. It didn't feel heavy enough to be solid metal, so there must be a hollow space inside, but she didn't see any latches or hidden catches to open it. After turning it over in her hands a couple of times, she spared a quick glance to ensure Hank had Eckmann's full attention and then tilted the object so that Var would have a clear view of the symbols on the upper surface while she performed her own inspection.

At first glance the symbols looked completely unfamiliar and between her father's archeological work and her own extensive travels, she was familiar with a lot of different writing systems. Oh, she couldn't read them all, but she felt confident she would recognize the style if it had been Chinese, Arabic, Hebrew, or even ancient Egyptian and Babylonian hieroglyphs. But the symbols on the object didn't remotely resemble any of those styles.

However Marion did hear the slight change in Var's breathing and when she exchanged a glance with him, he gave the barest of nods. So, she thought as she turned her attention back to the symbols, these must be in Var's language. And armed with that clue, she did recognize a couple as being similar to ones she had seen on the control panel of his ship during their flight back from Peenemunde.

If the object was engraved with symbols of Var's language, what did that mean? She knew Clark, Lana, and Whitney had traveled back in time specifically to recover this object; the whole adventure starting with the chateau and ending with the destruction of the German ships and Peenemunde had never been in their original plans. And from what Hank had told her, Clark and Whitney had been just as surprised at finding Var's ship in the hangar at Peenemunde as he had been. So if this object had some connection with Var or his people or his home planet, it must have something to do with things in the future rather than in the present. She wished Clark was more forthcoming with what was going on, but when she had pressed him he had said that it was dangerous to the timeline if she knew too much about the future. She still had a slowly fading jumble of memories from Lana which had been passed to her when Lana had first bestowed her gift, but they were just random snapshots of Lana's life and didn't clarify the current situation at all.

Marion couldn't help but let out a small sigh as she passed the object back to her husband and tried to turn her attention to his conversation with the German officer; although just for a moment she couldn't keep her thoughts from drifting to Clark's friend Whitney. He had come back here to 1936 Germany to help Clark retrieve this object which would, in some way, help save some of their friends in the future. She knew from her conversations with Lana that he had done it mainly because of his feelings for her even though she was in the process of dumping him for another. Yet he had come along anyway and what had it gotten him? It had gotten him killed. Twice. And both times she had been present and forced to watch. She never would have believed Lana's claim he had been saved from his massive wounds the first time if not for all of the other remarkable things Lana had been able to do. And then the second time when his wound had seemed so minor in comparison and Lana had just let him die. She stared down at the mysterious object currently held lightly in her husband's hands and wondered if it really was worth Whitney's life.

"So where did you acquire the piece?" was what Hank had just asked when Marion rejoined the conversation. Eagerly she leaned forward to hear Eckmann's response. Perhaps they were about to find out if Whitney's life had been given in vain.

"About two months ago I was sent to Timbuktu in southern Sudan," began Eckmann.

"Isn't Sudan under French control?" interjected Hank.

"It is," responded Eckmann with a 'so what is your point' shrug of his shoulders. "The reason I was there is not really germane to this story and it is probably best to just leave it at that. Anyway, Timbuktu is not the legendary sprawling city with streets lined with gold as the stories imply. Oh, it might have been special a thousand years ago, but not any more. Its population is only about thirty thousand and the vast majority of these people reside in mud huts and barely eke out a living. Also the whole region is predominantly Islamic which means the town has only one small bar to cater to the alcoholic needs of visiting foreigners.

"One evening I was sitting in the bar with the only two other patrons, a couple of petroleum engineers from the States, when a stranger showed up. Now, I hope you don't take offense, Hank, but one look at him and I knew he was an archeologist. There is just something about the eyes of all of you guys who spend your lives digging around in the ruins of ancient civilizations.

"All the two engineers ever wanted to talk about was American baseball, so hungry for a distraction, I quickly invited the stranger to join me for a drink. It turned out he was a Scottish professor from Glasgow named Caden McDonald. Ever heard of him?"

Hank grinned. "Red hair, pot belly, always smoking a pipe carved in the shape of a jaguar?"

"Yeah, that's him. So you know him?"

"Yes, we have worked a couple of digs in Peru together. But what was he doing in western Africa? The last time I heard from him he was in Bolivia, I think," responded Hank.

"Apparently, someone affiliated with the University of La Paz thought they had found some archeological evidence of a trading relationship between some of the ancient Andean civilizations and the equally ancient Zingh Empire of Western Africa. Professor McDonald was commissioned to travel to Africa to look for evidence of trading contacts on that side of the ocean. You know things like similarities in pottery styles or coinage, or architectural styles, or craftsman's tools."

Marion's heart seemed to skip a beat, as Eckmann's words brought back memories of the visit, via the strange mental powers of Lana, she had had to the long-lost Jaguar City, the origin site of the El Dorado legends, high in the mountains of the Andes on the shores of Lake Titicaca. She hadn't yet shared with Hank the nearly indescribable things she had experienced when Lana had touched her after they had shared blood. And she wasn't sure if she ever would. Oh, Hank had seen Lana's near miraculous ability to heal from what should have been mortal wounds, but even that knowledge might not be enough to make what she could do with the power of her mind believable.

With Lana's departure through the time machine, Marion had never expected to hear of the Zingh Empire again, but now it had suddenly come up and must have some connection with the object. If Lana's friend, Laura or Chloe or whatever her name was, was truly thousands and thousands of years old, perhaps this object was some powerful device left over from her pre-ice age civilization. With the example of the superhuman abilities grafted into her body, it was impossible to guess what this device might be capable of, or how dangerous it might be.

But then Marion remembered Var's apparent recognition of the symbols engraved the object's exterior. If the object was the remnant of some great pre-ice age culture, how would Var understand the symbols? But if the device was from Var's world, how did it ended up being associated with a conversation about the Zingh civilization? Suddenly her sense of frustration rose to the surface. Everything in her life since meeting these kids from the future seemed to be part of some giant Chinese puzzle box. Every time she opened one box, all it did was expose another equally cryptic box. And she was really getting to hate it.

In her frustration and before thinking things through, Marion interjected into the conversation. "But the symbols on the object have nothing to do with the Zingh writing system, so what is its connection with the Zingh?"

Both men turned to stare at her in surprise.

"You can read Zingh writing?" asked Eckmann.

Trying to pull her foot back out of her mouth, Marion threw out what she hoped would sound like a plausible story, since she could hardly explain that she knew the writing on the object was of alien origin. "My father, Abner Ravenwood, was also an archeologist. His life-long quest was to find the Ark of the Covenant from the Old Testament of the Bible. Most biblical historians believe the Ark's final resting place was in ancient Egypt, but Daddy had found a few legends indicating the Ark had passed from the Egyptians to the Zingh, who were their contemporaries in Western Africa. We, my Daddy and I, spent part of 1924 and most of 1925 working a series of digs near Nouakchott, which is on the Atlantic coast of Africa at least 700 miles west of Timbuktu. I can't read the Zingh dialect, but I saw enough examples on old, long-buried ruins to know it isn't at all similar to what is on this object."

Hank looked like he was going to ask some follow-up questions about her story until she moved her right hand onto his, gave two quick taps with her index finger, paused and gave one more tap. This was one of the codes they had developed during the journey from Tibet to Egypt to allow them to pass messages when they were being observed. The 'two taps followed by one' message simply meant 'follow my lead'. Marion hoped Hank would correctly interpret it to mean she knew more than she could say in front of Eckmann, and that she was certain the object wasn't of Zingh origin.

Marion watched as Hank slowly nodded before saying, "I have heard stories about the Zingh, but I have never done any research into that civilization. However, if you and Abner explored some of their ruins, I believe you when you say the symbology on this artifact is not Zingh."

As Hank swung his attention back to Eckmann, Marion let out what she hoped was an inaudible sigh of relief and then also turned to Eckmann. "Sorry, for the interruption, Horst, but I thought it was important to mention that while I don't recognize the symbols, I am as certain they are not Zingh as I am certain they are not English. Anyway, please continue with your story."

Eckmann stared at Marion for a moment and then shrugged. "Professor McDonald never specifically said this object was Zingh. In fact, he discovered it at a dig, but not in the dig. Wait, let me clarify, he didn't discover it, rather he found it in his tent. He was working in some old ruins about twenty-five miles south of Timbuktu. At the end of one day when he returned to his tent, he discovered it under the pillow on his cot with a note that said in English, 'Sell this artifact to the first German you meet. Tell him you will both be well rewarded for your effort.' Now the professor questioned all the locals who were working for him, but none of them would admit to any knowledge of the object or of any strangers having been in camp. So the artifact sat in his tent for several weeks until he traveled back to Timbuktu for supplies. When we ran into each other in that bar and he told me the strange story of the artifact, I was intrigued enough to buy it from him. Somebody obviously planted it in the Professor's tent and must have known I was the only German in the area. So the object must have been meant to end up in my hands. However once I had it, I wasn't certain what to do with it. But the original note said I would be rewarded, too. And the only one I know who pays me for weird old junk is you, Hank. So I decided I would give you first crack at it."

Marion thought about what the German Major had said and it seemed even more unlikely than claiming the Professor had dug the object up. It almost felt like someone knew in advance how the sequence of events would play out from Professor McDonald to Major Eckmann to Hank. 'Knew in advance', was that the key? Like in 'someone from the future'. Had someone used a time machine to put that object in the Professor's tent knowing it would eventually work its way to them and then on to Clark. Had Clark come from the future to find something else also from the future? It certainly explained why the object looked brand new and not like it was thousands of years old. But why the convoluted route to get it to Clark? Was this whole thing just some game dreamed up by bored kids from the future? Well, if it was, they certainly played hard if they were willing to let Whitney die as part of some game.

Clasping Hank's hand hard enough to get his attention, Marion said, "It seems like someone is trying pretty hard to get this into your hands. I guess you better buy it from Horst and we will have to figure out what to do with it."

Hank nodded and then turned the object over in his hands one more time. "I can offer you five thousand for it, but it will have to be in gold rather than cash."

Eckmann smiled. "Gold is always acceptable. Surely you remember the time back in La Paz when I received the shipment of paper money from Germany as bonus pay for the German members of my squadron, but while it had been in transit the hyperinflation back home had gotten so bad it wasn't worth the paper it was printed on?"

Marion watched as Hank started to laugh. When he finally got himself under control, he turned back to her. "Marion, that night Horst and I ended up drinking chicha in this little dive of a saloon with the men from his squadron. The highlight was using 100 million denomination Deutschmark notes to light our cigars. I have never felt closer to being one of the Rockefellers than I did that night."

Turning back to his German friend, Hank reached into his side coat pocket and pulled out a medium-sized bag which clinked quietly as he handed it over. Briefly Marion wondered where Clark had acquired the bags full of gold coins he had handed over, but then decided money was probably not an issue to someone who had a time machine.

As Hank rewrapped the silver artifact in the silk cloth and stowed it in his pocket which had recently been filled with the gold coins, the three of them settled back into their seats and turned their attention back to the opening ceremonies. The American team had almost completed their procession around the track following the Uruguayans and the Yugoslavs. Now all that remained was the German team and as they began to enter everyone in the stadium surged to their feet cheering. As Marion followed suit, she scanned the American team for signs of Clark and Gretchen.

Part 3

Clark and Gretchen parted from the older members of their party near one of the eastern entrances to the giant stadium and made their way around to the staging area on the open south side. As they approached they could make out the forty-nine roped-off areas each marked with a large sign naming one of the participating countries. The staging area was organized into two parallel rows in the order in which the teams would enter the stadium. Some of the areas like the one for Monaco with only three participants and two coaches looked almost vacant while the ones for the large teams like the Germans and the Americans contained hundreds of people all in matching attire. The American team being last based on the German alphabet and the German team as the host country were the farthest from the stadium entrance. Making their way along the outside of the left row, Clark and Gretchen quietly ducked under the perimeter rope and mingled with the milling crowd of Americans.

As band music drifted out of the nearby stadium, a guy wearing the jacket proclaiming him to be an official with the opening ceremony organizing staff climbed onto a chair directly below the 'United States of America' sign and began calling the team to order. The boisterous crowd began to quiet down and move closer to better hear the instructions. As Clark and Gretchen joined the others, Jesse Owens and Ralph Metcalfe suddenly appeared beside them.

"Clark, where is Whitney?" began Metcalfe in hushed tones. "And where have you been? We have been looking everywhere for you. I think Coach Robertson is about ready to have a cow."

Clark looked over at Metcalfe with Owens standing beside him with an equally expectant expression on his face. Thinking back, Clark realized he should have used some of the copious time he had spent recently in 'speed-mode' to figure out what he was going to say in this situation. He could hardly blurt out the truth that Whitney was lying dead at the bottom of the Baltic in the decimated remains of a secret German battleship.

"Whitney had a family emergency down in Dresden about a hundred miles south of here. We went down there yesterday. I caught the early train back this morning, but Whitney won't be back until tomorrow. He hated to miss the opening ceremonies, but it couldn't be helped," answered Clark. If everything went according to plan, his task here would be finished today and by tomorrow he would be long gone. Hopefully, once the excitement of the games kicked in, everyone would soon forget about Whitney, Lana, and himself.

"Coach Robertson isn't going to be happy that you took off without telling anyone, but I am just glad you are alright," responded Owens. Then with a glance over at Gretchen, who was wearing one of the men's suit coats and hats rather than the attire of the female members of the team, he continued, "Who is your friend?"

"Ah . . . Jesse Owens, Ralph Metcalfe this is Gretchen Unger. She is a friend of mine and she has run into some trouble with the guys in the black uniforms, if you know who I mean. Since Whitney isn't here today, I thought it best to use his jacket and hat to keep her with me. She should be safe for the moment while surrounded by the hundreds of Americans in the ceremony. Afterwards I will have to make over arrangements for her."

Metcalfe shook his head. "Mysterious comings and goings. Friends in trouble with the Gestapo. Clark your life seems closer to a story in a dime-novel than any other athlete I have ever known."

'And you don't even know the half of it,' thought Clark remembering his attempt at a Captain America cover story on the Nazis' flying dreadnought. However, out loud he said, "So are you willing to keep Gretchen's presence a secret?"

Metcalfe and Owens exchanged a glance. After Owens gave a small shrug, Metcalfe nodded. "Sure. We have heard the way they treat people. Why would we want to do anything to help them?"

"Thanks, guys," answered Gretchen, speaking for the first time.

The droning voice of the official, who was issuing the instructions and who almost everyone was ignoring, was abruptly drowned out by cheering and applause from the German team located in the adjacent roped off area. Everyone on the American team seemed to turn as one to see what was going on. At six-four, Clark towered over most of the others and even from their location near the back of the pack he could see what had gotten the Germans all excited. Leading a large entourage down the central lane between the two rows of teams was the man himself, Adolf Hitler. At the moment he was paused by the German team and was shaking a few of the many extended hands. Immediately Clark's mind flashed back to the scene in the final Indiana Jones movie where Indy had come into contact with Hitler in a similar situation and Hitler had autographed his father's Grail diary. He had never asked Hank many details of his real Grail adventure as he was afraid he might give himself away if he inadvertently revealed more knowledge of those events than he should have. But now that Hank and Marion knew about the time machine, maybe he could risk it.

Seeing Hitler step away from the German team and head towards the Americans, Clark considered working his way to the front of the crowd to shake his hand. These time travel adventures certainly seemed to bring him into contact with some of the most powerful men in history. Although he had gotten to know the Roman Emperor Caligula better than he would ever get to know Hitler. But then it had been easier to overlook the atrocities Caligula would eventually commit as he only heard about them second hand from Chloe and Lex. With Hitler it would never be easy with all of the film coverage of the concentration camps and the destruction throughout Europe he would cause. No, Clark was suddenly afraid if he got too close to Hitler he would be tempted to use his powerful heat vision to burn a nice fat hole right through the center of Hitler's head. And while that might be personally satisfying and save untold millions of lives during the next ten years, it would most certainly destroy the timeline and prevent him from ever returning home. It looked like he was going to have to be satisfied with the destruction of Hitler's two superweapons and the large installation at Peenemunde.

"What's going on?" asked Gretchen rising to her toes in an attempt to see passed the crowd.

"Chancellor Hitler is passing by on his way to the stadium," answered Clark as he grabbed Gretchen around the waist and effortlessly lifted her up until her head was slightly above his.

"Thanks, Clark," Gretchen replied as she craned her neck to get a good look at the man who was ultimately responsible for the death of her father.

Hitler did pause to shake hands with a few members of the American team before the Olympic staff members got him moving again towards the stadium. At his nearest approach he was less than thirty feet from where Clark stood and Clark took the opportunity to give him the once over. He found Hitler to be of middling height with a somewhat stocky build. He definitely had a more powerful physical presence than Caligula, but he still seemed a long, long way from the 'Aryan Ideal' he was always ranting about.

When Hitler moved down to the next team in the line and they could only see his back, Clark lowered Gretchen back to the ground.

"Well," began Gretchen allowing an exaggerated shudder to be seen to run through her body. "I think that is as close as I ever want to get to him."

"Yeah, me too," agreed Clark still watching the Nazi's retreating form.

With Hitler and his large entourage of Olympic officials and Nazi party cronies once more out of earshot, the official who had been addressing the American team climbed back onto the chair.

"As I was saying," the man began with a fairly thick German accent. "Once you are in the stadium you will make one lap around the perimeter track before proceeding to your designated spot on the field. Don't worry about finding the right spot, as there will be people to guide you. Oh, and one other thing, as you pass the chancellor's VIP box, the team will, in unison, give the Olympic salute." Here the official paused to demonstrate the salute which involved an upward straight thrust of the right arm at a thirty degree outward angle from the line of march.

"Shit," whispered Metcalfe, "That looks just like the salute those Nazi bastards use."

"Yeah," answered Clark, his voice raised enough so the twenty nearest people heard his response. "What's next? Are they going to want us to goosestep, too?"

At his words, grumblings began to spread among the team members. It only seemed a matter of seconds before an anti-Nazi sentiment had swept through the three hundred plus group.

Pulling his white straw hat off, Clark rested it over his heart. Keeping his voice down even though he had a strong urge to use his 'God-mode' voice, Clark said. "I am not going to give Hitler a fucking Nazi salute. If I have to give him a salute because of the Olympics, it is going to be a good ole American 'hat over the heart' salute."

Clark watched as Owens and Metcalfe exchanged a look and then wordlessly removed their hats and placed them over their hearts. In twos and threes it spread until the entire team was standing there with their hats off.

The official on the chair was still going on about the official Olympic salute even as the nearest members of the American team finally removed their hats, too. At this the official started speaking louder; and the louder he got the thicker his German accent seemed to become. It was only a matter of time before an anonymous member of the team started to boo. As the booing spread, the official was finally forced to step down from the chair and then quickly retreated to a knot of his fellows standing by the German team.

"Well, I think that showed him a little of the American sentiment towards Nazis," said Owens with a grin.

"I think an even better demonstration will come tomorrow during the actual games," grinned Clark as he put his hat back on.

"Amen to that, brother," responded Metcalfe as he donned his own hat. "Amen to that."

- + - + - + - +

As they marched into the stadium, Clark tried to stay focused on the mission, but it was difficult. With one hundred ten thousand cheering fans in the stadium, the situation felt remarkably similar to the day he had spent at the Circus Maximus in ancient Rome, except that crowd had been more than twice as large. Of course, back then he had had the advantage of being able to use some of his true gifts under the cover of being a Greek God. Would the events in this stadium go easier, too, if he used his gifts? Maybe so but unfortunately there were hundreds of movie cameras and probably thousands of still cameras that would record any action on his part for posterity. No, he was going to have to, at least on the surface, maintain his 'normal human' guise.

As his fellow teammates began to wave enthusiastically to the crowd, Clark swept his gaze over the crowd looking for Hank, Marion, and Var. He knew approximately where they were seating and a strong feeling of relief swept over him when he finally spotted them; it had been over forty-five minutes since they had parted and all kinds of terrible possibilities had run through his head. Looking at them more closely, they all seemed to be relaxed and calmly watching the parade of athletes. Sitting next to them was a German officer in the gray uniform of the Luftwaffe, so at least that part of the vision Chloe had passed to him while lying on the floor of the storm cellar had come true. So much had happened since he had been back here in 1936, it suddenly seemed impossible that the events back in the storm cellar had only taken place a week earlier. It certainly felt more like months had passed. But if everything went well, he should be on his way home within hours. God, it would be could to see Chloe and his parents again. Of course, that assumed the artifact he had come to retrieve really was a solution to what was ailing Chloe.

But they had to get through the rest of the opening ceremonies first. Quickly, Clark expanded his view of the stands from his current tight focus on his friends to a wider area which encompassed that entire section. Thankfully, there didn't seem to be any more men in uniform in the area around his friends than in any other. Perhaps they were going to get through this after all.

Now that he had their location fixed in his mind, Clark relaxed a little and tried to enjoy the novelty of being in the Olympics. Certainly back home he would never experience this for real, as what would be the point of competing when his abilities so far outstripped humans'? Hoisting a fifty thousand ton battleship a mile into the air suddenly made throwing a javelin in an Olympic competition remarkably trivial.

As the American team reached the far end of the track and began the turn which would bring them to the back straight and the location of Hitler's VIP box, Clark's thoughts of lifting the battleship brought back his conversation with Var during their flight down from Var's ship. He hadn't yet had time to test out Var's suggestion how it might be possible to go so shallow into 'speed-mode' it wouldn't be apparent to outside observers, but still giving him the unique abilities only possible there like flying.

Deciding this was as good of time as any, Clark shifted into speed-mode. As always happened, at first everyone around him seemed frozen in place. Concentrating, Clark gradually managed to reduce his depth in speed-mode. After what felt like several minutes from his perspective, the team members around him slowly started to move. With continued effort, the people around him steadily sped up. As he approached normal speed, the sounds filling the stadium gradually became audible. At first everything sounded like the low bass rumble of distant thunder, but as he slowed down conversely the sound moved up in frequency. After a couple more 'apparent minutes' the sounds were close enough to normal as to be easily recognizable and it also became necessary to start moving so as to stay in-sync with his nearest neighbors. No, he certainly didn't want to appear to suddenly stop moving and cause an incident as others behind him in the close-packed group began running into him.

Steadily as they moved down the back straight of the track, Clark's control at 'shallow speed-mode' improved. By the time they reached the reviewing box, he was able to doff his hat right along with everyone else. Although as he looked up and saw Hitler standing there offering the classic Nazi salute, he was very tempted to move much deeper into speed-mode and pay the man a little visit. Oh, maybe he couldn't kill Hitler without disrupting the timeline, but certainly something simpler like burning off his stupid little mustache wouldn't have dire consequences to the timeline. However when the Americans passed Hitler's position and started putting their hats back on, Clark forced himself to follow suit. He was here to find a cure for Chloe's condition, which was far more important than playing simple mind games with Hitler's head.

When the Americans reached the final turn in the track before exiting it for the infield, the roar of the crowd seemed to increase ten-fold; the hometown German team had entered the stadium. As Clark's eyes were first drawn to the German team and then on to the wildly gesticulating crowd, his mind was for some strange reason drawn back to the first time he had been in this stadium on the day he and Lana and Whitney had first arrived back here in 1936. The trigger was probably thoughts of Whitney. He was the one who had most enjoyed being here and it was impossible to forget how his eyes had lit up when he had realized he had beaten Jesse Owens in a real race. If any of their little party deserved the honor of parading in with the American team, it was Whitney. But Whitney was dead and Lana was gone through the time machine leaving Clark to carry on alone.

As the officials directed them across the infield and formed them up in neat, orderly rows, Clark felt the dark, bleak thoughts which had filled him earlier once more returning. Lex and Chloe were lying on the floor back in the storm cellar near death. Whitney was lying on the floor of the ocean already dead. Lana might still be on her feet, but she was possessed by some ancient evil incarnation of Chloe and was off creating who knew what kind of mischief while he stood here wasting his time enduring some pointless Olympic ceremony. Did Hank already have the artifact they had come for? Could he just whisk them away in 'speed-mode' and be on his way to more urgent tasks?

Clark tried to relax and force the fear knotting his stomach back under control. Could he get an ulcer, he wondered. Hopefully, not, he thought, as a small smile forced its way to the surface. He just had to keep remembering that time only became critical when he returned to the future. If things should come up which delayed his departure by a few hours or even a few days, it shouldn't make any difference. No, the only possible variable was Lana and while the communication device she had used to return her to the future would have dropped her in New York City two days before the events in the storm cellar to allow a visit to Doctor Swann, his was set for the same time. So even if he was delayed here for a few days, it wouldn't give her any appreciable head start.

But he wasn't certain how the time machine was going to behave when he tried to open a portal to the exact same time and place as she did. Would they somehow open simultaneously such that they would step out side-by-side? That certainly seemed like the ideal solution from his perspective. Hank had said she had one of the Samson braids, but if he could get his arms around her, he was certain he could still restrain her even with the braid and all of Chloe's abilities. Then it would just be a matter of finding a place to stow her until Chloe was recovered so she could help him 'deprogram' Lana.

Of course, that presupposed they arrived together. If the time machine didn't or couldn't deliver them together, but instead left them separated by a few minutes or blocks, he might not be able to find her. And that was a very scary thought. If she could gain complete control over the German battleship filled with several thousand officers and sailors in less than twenty-four hours, what could she do in the minimum of forty-eight hours it would be before he could get any help or guidance from Chloe? Forty-eight hours suddenly felt like plenty of time for her to gain complete control over Norad, or Wall Street, or Congress and the President, or maybe all three.

Damn, he had been so focused on saving Chloe and Lex, he had never taken time to think about what Lana on the loose might mean. And if the Sliviuh personality had access to Lana's or Laura's memories, she would know all about his abilities, too. Once he had figured out the limitations of the Samson braids, he had easily defeated the German wearers. But if Sliviuh knew about his extreme speed and his strength and his x-ray and heat visions, she could probably think of ways to nullify his advantages. At least the whole flying thing had developed after their last contact, which left him with one ace up his sleeve. Although when he thought about it, most of her methods of nullifying his speed would also work against his flying as well, unless she decided on some airborne hideout like Air Force One.

Clark shook his head and tried to force his thoughts back onto the current situation. At the moment trying to plan a strategy to use against Sliviuh was just going to drive him crazy; there were simply too many unknowns. He really needed to stop thinking about it and let his subconscious work on it instead.

Looking around, Clark discovered the German team had joined the rest of them in the infield and the program was moving forward. A civilian, dressed in a morning suit complete with tails which looked out-of-date even back here, was giving a stentorian speech in German from a podium up in the VIP box next to Hitler. Since he appeared likely to drone on for awhile, Clark turned his attention back to working on his 'slow speed-mode' abilities. After a couple of minutes of work he had achieved a state where the speaker's voice was only slightly deeper than when he had been listening in 'normal-mode'. Carefully trying not to attract notice, Clark decided to see if he could really appear to hover in mid-air. Slowly, he forced his body to levitate until his feet were one inch above the ground, which should leave enough of the grass above the sides of his shoes to conceal what he was doing.

Holding his position slightly above the ground, Clark let his mind drift back to Chloe and the wonderful times they had spent together. Certainly one of the high spots of his life was the night he and Chloe had spent at her Metropolis University apartment after his return from ancient Rome. Oh, they had had some enjoyable times together back in Rome, but the possibility of being trapped back there permanently had hung like a cloud over things, not to mention Laura inhabiting Lana's body and Lana's mind potentially lost forever. But on the night after his return everything had been perfect. Everyone had made it home safely and Lana's mind had been restored.

From his perspective less than an hour had passed from when the way home had been discovered until his arrival at her apartment. On that wonderful night the enormity of Chloe's sacrifice of living through the last two thousand years for a second time hadn't truly sunk in. In fact he never really comprehended it during the week which passed in Smallville before the hurried departure for 1936 Germany. No, it was only after the little trip to Dresden and the meeting with the pre-Smallville Chloe that some of the aspects of her improbable life started to really sink in. Oh, she had explained about her life many times and they had run into several people in ancient Rome who had known her, but always the 'Chloe' he had known for years had been at his side. It was only after meeting the earlier Chloe who didn't know him that some of the things she had told him started to feel real. In particular the stories about her countless husbands and children had never penetrated his heart until he actually met one of her former families. Somehow he just had never been able to picture Chloe with others any more than he could picture his Mom or Dad being with anyone else before they got together. But now he was coming to understand a little about her life and he wondered how it would change things between them once they were back together. All he knew for certain was that he had never seen her as happy as when she was with the children in Dresden and he hoped someday he would see her looking as happy because of him.

Slowly, as the speaker's amplified German voice droned on through the stadium's loudspeakers, Clark's thoughts turned to the more erotic moments he and Chloe had shared. It seemed like those thoughts had only lasted a moment when he felt a sharp tug on his right hand and a hissed 'Clark'. Quickly he glanced to his right and realized it was Gretchen who had grabbed his hand. And at almost the same moment he realized he had let his mind drift while still in 'slow speed-mode' and he was now hovering more like four inches above the ground instead of his intended one inch.

"Eeek," squeaked Gretchen, as she abruptly released his hand. Then she briefly appeared to stumble, which seemed next to impossible for someone who was standing still.

It only took Clark a moment to realize what had happened; he had been hovering in 'speed-mode' when she touched him and just like events back at the battleship, whatever field his body emitted had abruptly expanded to encompass the girl. And since he was hovering, the field had started to lift her off her feet, too. This was an interesting effect he hadn't considered. It meant anyone who was touching him would appear to fly with him rather than needing to be carried, at least as long as he held the speed down to what his guest could handle. For a second he found himself yearning more than ever to be back with Chloe and able to share this gift with her. How fun would it be to fly to Metropolis or L.A. or New York, or hell even Paris while merely touching hands?

"Clark, you're floating," hissed Gretchen trying not to attract any more attention than possible.

Her whispered words shook him out of his reverie and slowly Clark lowered his body back to the ground knowing a more sudden motion would certainly attract the attention of the nearby athletes. He had to hope since he already towered over almost all of the others that no one had noticed who didn't know him well like Gretchen. From his vast experience over the past year of hiding his abilities, he had come to understand that the human mind always tried to fit unusual things into patterns it already understood. How many times had he used his 'speed mode' to disappear in the blink of an eye, but no one had ever called him on it. No, everyone simply came to the conclusion that he had been gone longer than they realized. So in the same vein, anyone who noticed him levitating would probably come to the conclusion he was merely taller than they had realized.

Once he was back firmly on the ground, Clark leaned over so he could whisper into her ear. "Sorry, about that and thanks for warning me. This speech was getting really boring and I started playing around with this anti-gravity device built into my shoes I picked up from the Vulcans. The Vulcans have this really long technical name for it, but we Americans on the base just call it Flubber."

Gretchen pulled back from him a little and then flashed him an exasperated expression. "I thought the whole point was to get through the day unnoticed. So please, knock off with the toys already. Save them for when we might need them."

Clark threw her one of his sheepish grins, but this time it wasn't just an act. No, Gretchen was right; this was one of those times when he shouldn't be playing around with toys, or more accurately, his gifts.

Turning his attention from Gretchen back to the speaker up in the VIP booth, he realized the speaker was winding down his remarks. He didn't think he had acquired sufficient expertise in German during the week he had been here to understand what the man was saying, but decided instead it was the movement of Hitler to a position closer to speaker which was the real clue.

His German might be virtually non-existent, but he recognized when the speaker announced Hitler's name. The speaker's final words were completely drowned out by the tumultuous applause which filled the stadium at Hitler's introduction. It wasn't until Hitler stepped up to the microphone and motioned for silence that the crowd slowly began to quieten down.

Clark remembered stories of how Hitler could draw stadium-filling crowds during the early days of his political career and then give speeches which could go on literally for hours. He certainly hoped that wouldn't be the case today, he just wanted the ceremony to be over so he could get on to more important things. Therefore he was completely surprised when Hitler spoke a single sentence before retreating from the microphone. Clark didn't realize this was standard protocol for the political leader of the host country and wondered when Hitler immediately joined several uniformed men near the back of the box, if he had just been given word about events at Peenemunde. He remembered stories, although it might just be memories of movie scenes, of how German officers hated to give Hitler bad news during the war. Was that the situation here, he wondered. Did they intentionally wait until Hitler was in the most public of situations before giving him the news?

Clark's attention was closely focused on the Hitler and the others and he found himself wishing he could lip-read German. However, when the band started playing and another wave of applause swept through the stadium and all of his teammates turned and craned their necks in a direction away from the VIP box, his curiosity forced him to turn around, too.

Entering through the main south entrance used by the teams of athletes only a few minutes earlier was a single athlete moving at a slow jog holding the Olympic torch aloft. This was to be one of the lasting traditions the Nazis would bestowed on the Olympics, as this was the first time the Olympic torch had been kindled at the historic ruins of the Temple of Zeus in Olympia, Greece and then run in relays to Berlin. On every day since their arrival, the 'Olympic Press' had included a front page article chronicling the previous day's progress of the torch's continent-spanning odyssey. Each article had been filled with stories of how each country's citizens had turned out in droves to celebrate its visit and how the national leaders had used the opportunity to pledge their support for the Olympic Ideals and World Peace. Clark grinned at the memory of Whitney's remark about the government leaders wanting to be Miss America contestants after Lana had read the 'World Peace' comment for the third morning in a row.

The torch bearer ran the length of the track before proceeding up the long flight of stairs leading to the giant torch at the top of the north side of the stadium. This torch might not have all the high tech features of the torches from games nearer to his own era, but Clark thought its flames were still impressively large and bright on this overcast day.

After one more band number and a performance for Hitler by fifty flag-bearers, the Olympic Oath was recited by a burly German weightlifter. Then to Clark's surprise the teams began to march out while a German choir sang Handel's Hallelujah Chorus. Unlike the long, bloated opening ceremonies of the late twentieth century, this ceremony had lasted just barely over ninety minutes.

The Germans being their typical efficient, officious selves forced the teams to return to their initial staging areas and wait until all of the teams had cleared the stadium before allowing them to go their separate ways. But Clark didn't mind; it gave him a chance to say good-bye to Owens and Metcalfe, although he had to be careful to only imply it was until they would meet up for the first event the following morning. Plus, he didn't mind hanging for a few minutes with the other athletes because it would take awhile for Hank, Marion, and Var to get clear of the stadium anyway. Throughout this time, Clark kept Gretchen's right hand lightly gripped in his left; he was getting a feeling in his gut that his time in Nazi Germany was quickly coming to an end and he didn't want any complications involving something happening to the girl. Although at first, after the 'hovering' incident in the stadium, Gretchen had been skittish about letting him touch her. But after he pointed at how his feet were firmly planted on the ground and then making a show of crossing his heart to convince her there wouldn't be a repeat incident, she had finally let him slide his hand into hers.

As soon as they were cleared to leave the staging area, Clark led Gretchen off in the direction of the eastern entrances of the stadium. When the group had first arrived at the stadium several hours earlier, they had agreed to meet under an easy-to-spot old oak tree in a little park about three hundred feet from the stadium. When they arrived the others were already waiting and from the big grin on Marion's face, Clark felt it was safe to assume they had been successful.

But just to be one hundred percent certain, he had to ask, "Did you get it?"

Hank patted his jacket pocket while giving a grin and a nod. Marion answered with an enthusiastic 'Yes'. Var gave a small nod, but Clark noticed how the older man's eyes continued to sweep the crowd on the lookout for any potential problem. But at this moment Clark was no longer worried about Nazi interference. Now that they had possession of the artifact he had come to procure, wading through a few or even 'a lot' of Nazis to get clear wouldn't bother him in the least. Finally away from the hundreds of prying cameras inside the stadium, thumping a few Gestapo agents probably wouldn't put the timeline to that much risk.

"Good," grinned Clark. "Let's get moving and see if we can find a little less visible spot before heading back to Var's ship."

Gesturing towards a nearby street, Clark shepherded the others away from the crowds still exiting the jammed stadium. In the end they had to walk over ten blocks before they found an empty little alleyway which would shelter them from sight for the necessary few seconds. Shifting deep into 'speed mode', Clark reached out to his sides and clasped one hand from each woman in his hands before willing himself aloft. With the women appearing to levitate along side of him, Clark decided this was much easier than juggling both women in his arms at once.

Before Clark had risen forty feet into the air, Var called out, "Clark, how are you doing that?"

Clark paused his upward motion and looked down at the mostly frozen tableau spread out below him. Everyone visible on the street was frozen in place except for Var who was standing with Hank in his arms in the little hidden alley. Smiling, Clark realized for once he understood more about their gifts than Var did.

It only took a few seconds for him to explain the basic concept to Var of the special field their bodies emitted while in 'speed mode'. Quickly, Var set Hank back on his feet and then clasped Hank's hand and followed Clark into the air.

After one last lingering look at the giant Nazi stadium in the distance, the two men and their three companions soared up into the sky. Faster than any human eye could follow they made their way to Var's ship, whose current hiding place far above the clouds was easily located via the special enhanced senses the two Kryptonians shared.

Part 4

"May I see it?" asked Clark once they were back on the command deck of _'Wegthor's Shadow'_ and they had returned to 'normal speed'.

Hank only jumped slightly at Clark's words and the realization they were once more back on the alien's spaceship. This must be at least the seventh or eighth time he had experienced the effect since the first time back on the night Clark had rescued him from the chateau. Maybe his body was starting to get used to it. Or maybe his mind was slowly overloading from all the things he had experienced in the past few days. Certainly more strange things had occurred since Marion and he had arrived in Berlin than had occurred during the recovery of the Ark. Had that adventure only been a few months earlier? It suddenly felt years in the past.

Forcing his thoughts back to the present, Hank reached into his coat pocket, pulled out the silk wrapped package, and handed it to Clark.

With an excitement he hadn't felt since Christmas morning when he was seven or eight, Clark slowly peeled back the layers of white silk until the object of his long arduous quest was finally revealed. The artifact, the size of a thin paperback book, was made of some gray metal just as Chloe had described. Looking closer, he discovered the upper surface was engraved with symbols which Chloe's brief description hadn't included. He immediately recognized several as being the same as those found on the exterior of his small ship back home and Var's much larger ship here. This device was most definitely related to Krypton! Now if only he could read the language.

Looking up, Clark turned to Var. "Can you read what it says?"

Var held out his hand. "Let me take a closer look."

Clark handed the device over and watched as Var studied the markings. After a few seconds a quick grin passed over the older Kryptonian's face.

"What is it? What does it say?" Clark asked eagerly.

"Uh? Oh, I was just a little surprised that the message is addressed specifically to me. But then I guess that shouldn't be to surprising after what the German Major explained about what he knew about the device's origin."

Clark was, of course, curious about what the German had said, but certainly not as curious as about the device itself. "So, what does the message say?" he asked again.

Var looked back down at the device and then began speaking in a tone of voice which clearly implied he was speaking the words aloud as he read them again.

"Var-El of Krypton, please upload your memories of the events in the stadium into the house brain at your ancestral home using the memory extraction device created by Shu-El. The memories need to be tagged with security protocol Fedra Seventeen Hatu Six."

Here Var paused for a moment and then looked up at Clark. "Shu-El was my great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great grandfather. He was famous in his day as a mathematician, but I don't have any idea what this 'memory extraction device' is. I will have to do some research in the family archives when I get home. And I also, at this moment, have no idea the significance of the security protocol mentioned. Whoever left this message certainly has some detailed knowledge of the El Family."

Before Clark could think of any meaningful response, Var looked back down at the device and started reading again.

"Give the device to the young one and have him place his thumbs in the circles."

Var handed the device back to Clark pointing out the two blank ovals enclosed by the surrounding text. Clark looked the device over again carefully without yet touching the indicated areas.

"Biometrics?" asked Clark.

"I'm sorry, I am not familiar with that term," answered Var.

Clark glanced at Hank and the others and saw equally blank expressions on their faces. It was only then that he remembered that Var's knowledge of English was drawn from 1930s sources and didn't include more modern scientific terms.

"Sorry. Biometrics simply means using something unique to an individual to limit access. In this case I was wondering if the device is designed to check for fingerprints and if it is designed to only open and reveal its secrets at my touch."

Var slowly nodded. "It would seem a reasonable deduction based on the message."

Clark turned his attention back to the device. Carefully, he moved his thumbs over the indicated spots and then pressed down lightly. He expected the action would release some invisible locking mechanism to reveal a secret compartment with a further message.

Therefore he was taken by surprise by the beam of light which abruptly shown out of the crystal embedded in one edge of the device. At the moment he was holding it such that the beam was shining against his chest. Realizing it was an image projector of some sort he quickly reversed it and turned his body so the beam would project on the flat wall separating the control room from Var's personal quarters.

Var also recognized the device's intended purpose and quickly issued a command to the ship's brain to opaque the control room's hemispherical dome. By the time Clark had the device pointed at the wall, the room had plunged from brilliant daylight to shadowy twilight.

From where Clark stood about fifteen feet back from the wall, the device threw an image about five feet tall by five feet wide. At first all that was visible was a white static-filled image with an accompanying audio hiss from the device like you would get on an old TV turned to a channel with no signal. Then slowly, over a period of about ten seconds, it resolved into a profile shot of a kneeling girl. She was wearing a heavy floor length white robe. She had what at first looked like short brunette hair, but as the image cleared it became apparent she had long hair pulled up in a strangely familiar yet very odd style. In the beginning she appeared to be looking down at something on the floor in front of her, but then she looked up in the direction she was facing as she started to speak in an urgent, beseeching tone.

"_Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi, you're my only hope."_

'What the fuck?' thought Clark, as he recognized the famous Princess Leia line from the original 'Star Wars' movie.

The girl in the image repeated the line several more times perfectly mimicking Carrie Fisher's voice and inflection. Finally, after the third time she couldn't stop a grin from forming on her face. With the illusion broken, she climbed to her feet. As she turned to face the camera, she pulled off the brunette wig and then ruffled her right hand through her short blonde hair fluffing it until she finally looked exactly like the Chloe Clark remembered.

"_Sorry, about that Clark, but I simply couldn't resist,"_ she began in her normal voice with a happy grin still plastered across her face. Then she took a visible breath and adopted a more serious tone. _"These timeloops are very strange, self-generating beasts. Last time we ended up going back in time via a time machine that was only created because we had already used it. This time it started with a vision of the device you are holding and now I end up having to create it and send it back in time to fulfill what I have already seen in the past."_

Chloe paused, as if considering her next words. _"Since you are still caught in the middle of the loop, there is only a little I can tell you without risking its collapse. Obviously, the Nazis were never meant to have Var's technology, so eliminating all scientific records of his visit and seeing him safely on his way home was your primary purpose back there. However some of the things you have learned including the information about your Kryptonian heritage will become important later."_

"_Let's see, what else? Oh, yes,"_ continued Chloe as she turned to face where Hank was standing as though she knew exactly where everyone was and probably she did. _"Doctor Jones, or is it okay if I call you Hank even though we haven't met, yet? Anyway I just wanted to pass on that I know what happened to the three missing Samson braids. You will have to trust me; they aren't in the Nazis' hands. Oh, and when Var drops you and Marion off back in the States, please take good care of Gretchen."_ Chloe turned her head slightly towards Gretchen and threw a quick wink. _"There is important work in her future in America."_

Then Chloe turned her attention back towards Clark. _"I wish there was more I could tell you, but all I can say is the next step is to visit Doctor Virgil Swann. He has the next piece of the puzzle to handle things back in the storm cellar." _

Chloe paused again, a little longer this time. The picture quality the device created was hardly great, but Clark thought he saw the beginning of tears in her eyes.

"_I love you, Clark,"_ she concluded simply before blowing him a kiss. After only a few more seconds the image slowly faded to black.

For a moment there was silence, then Var directed the ship's brain to restore the control room's view of the outside and the room was once more flooded with light.

"Well, it sounds like our next stop is the United States," said Hank to fill the silence. "Things probably were going to get too hot for us in Germany anyway once word of our involvement started to filter out from the survivors at Peenemunde."

"Is there anything you need to retrieve from here before we leave?" asked Var.

Hank thought about it for a moment and then shook his head. "Not me. All that I have back at the hotel are a few changes of clothes. I can wire the hotel from the States to have them shipped back and if the Nazis want to keep them, well, no great loss. What about you dear?"

Marion had barely been listening to the conversation between her husband and Var. Her mind was still focused on the girl she had seen in the message. That had to be the original girl the 'Laura' variant in Lana's mind had been created from. Physically, she looked the same as the girl she had met in Jaguar City and again in her cabin on the Nazi battleship. And there certainly were strong personality similarities, too. She didn't understand the significance of the girl's first comments, but the whole wig thing and strange flowing robe attire were something she could easily expect from Laura. If this girl was truly thousands of years old, and that wasn't any harder to believe than all the unbelievable things she had witnessed during the past three days, then she somehow appeared to have been trapped in the mentality of a sixteen year old the whole time. At least her own interest in playing dress-up games had ended during her teenage years.

"Ah, Marion?" repeated Hank in a slightly louder voice.

Marion shook her head and looked at her husband. "Sorry, you were saying?"

"I asked if there was anything you needed to retrieve from here before Var gives us a lift back to the States. I am sure I can get a hold of the hotel from home and have them pack up and ship our clothes."

Marion found her fingers once more toying with her wedding band. "All I need are you and my ring, everything else can easily be replaced if need be." Once more thoughts of her ring brought back memories of the history of this ring that Lana/Laura had shown her. She still didn't know if she would ever reveal her trip to Jaguar City, but it wouldn't hurt to let Hank in on the conversation she had shared with Lana on the first evening they had met back in her hotel room.

"Hank, you only met Lana right near the end and she was very much changed by then; I wish you had had a chance to talk to her when I first met her. She could actually read the inscription on my ring. It was created for a female ruler named Atalaya of an offshoot branch of the Olmec civilization which existed along the north shore of Lake Titicaca around 825 B.C. It definitely explains why it was in the burial mound where you found it."

"What?" asked Hank, surprised by this unexpected revelation from his wife. "How could she possibly read the inscription? There are only a dozen people who have made a study of that long lost civilization and I know them all. Who could a young girl like that be working with that I wouldn't know?"

Marion wondered if she should have kept her mouth shut. How much of the truth should she reveal? But then she thought, 'What the hell, we are standing on an alien spaceship'.

She gestured towards the blank wall where the image of the blonde girl had just been projected. "The girl in the message, I think her name is Chloe, is thousands of years old and she was there." Seeing the look of disbelieve on her husband's face, she continued. "We are standing on an alien spaceship. You saw Lana get shot and almost instantly heal. I don't really understand what we have stumbled into, but if you can believe those things you have seen with your own eyes, you are going to have to trust me about this. I saw more than enough evidence to convince me it is true."

Hank stared at his wife and then slowly nodded his head. Why should it be impossible to believe the girl was thousands of years old? From his own experiences there was Sir Francois des Chesnes di Vanquelin, the seven hundred year old knight who had been the guardian of the grail cup.

"Okay, I believe you. And you are making me wish I had had the chance to talk to her for awhile. It might have greatly helped me in my work."

Marion smiled, as she remembered the tour Laura had given her of Jaguar City. "Hank, Lana and I talked about that long-lost civilization quite a bit when the Germans were first holding us captive. During your digs in South America, did you ever check out a large triangular-shaped island about a half mile from the north shore of Lake Titicaca?"

When Hank shook his head no, Marion continued. "That was where the capital of that civilization was located and according to Lana it was the source of the El Dorado legend. I think we should focus there on your next expedition. I think if I see the terrain first hand, I will be able to locate some hidden treasures Lana mentioned."

Marion watched as Hank's eyes lit up. However she knew her husband well enough to know he was more interested in learning about the lost civilization then he was in any trinkets of gold or silver. Of course, even he couldn't help but be overwhelmed if she could find the secret entrance to the underground labyrinth which housed the Golden Sun Disk of Lemuria.

While the Joneses were holding an almost cryptic conversation about archeology, Gretchen stepped over next to Clark who was still standing with the artifact in his hands and staring blankly at the now empty wall.

"Was that your girlfriend, Clark? The one who you came here to save? She is very beautiful."

Clark heard the girl's words, but almost chose to ignore them as his mind continued to race with the knowledge he did and didn't receive in Chloe's message. Most importantly, he knew he must eventually succeed in his quest to save Chloe or she wouldn't be able to send this message from the future. However she had been so careful about what she said, he couldn't decide if she was really being cautious about wrecking the timeloop like she said or if she was intentionally trying to hide bad news from him. If she could show she was okay by being in the message, then why no mention of the others? Was Lana in the future still running loose under the control of Sliviuh? Or worse, would she be dead? And hadn't they been able to go back and retrieve Whitney from the battleship? And what about Lex? Surely if he had found a way to cure Chloe, it should have worked on Lex, too. So, why no mentioned of him, either?

When he had first seen Chloe's image on the wall he had been so happy, but now he had more questions than ever. He had thought finding the artifact was going to provide him with the solution to Chloe's condition, but it had done nothing of the kind. At the moment he had no more idea how to solve the situation then when he had first stepped through the time machine to come back here. No, with Whitney dead and Lana under the control of Sliviuh, the situation seemed even more hopeless now than back then. The only helpful thing Chloe said was 'Go see Doctor Swann', yet he had known about Swann before he had even come back here to Nazi Germany. Why hadn't they gone to see Doctor Swann first? Maybe then they would have had a solution without even coming to 1936.

But then he remembered about Var being stranded back here and the super-weapons the Nazis had created from his knowledge. His own presence had been needed here as a catalyst to free Var and destroy all useful knowledge the Nazis had of Kryptonian technology. And he also suddenly remembered Chloe's other comment – that things he had learned back here would be important later. So what had he learned? He learned a little more about his special gifts like how to fly in 'speed-mode', how to sense electro-magnetic fields, and most recently how to go so shallowly into 'speed-mode' as to appear able to fly or hover in 'normal-mode'. Were some of those ablilities going to be important in the near future? And how was knowledge of his Kryptonian heritage going to be important? It was nice to finally know a little about the world he came from, but why would that be important to save Chloe?

As he forced himself to turn towards Gretchen to answer her question, he couldn't help but feel almost overwhelmed by all questions jumbled up in his head and how the solution to his problem seemed no closer than ever. Still, at least he knew Chloe was going to be alright. The message certainly could have been even less informative if it had been his Mom rather than Chloe on the screen since he already knew his Mom was okay. Hell, if the message had meant to convey the least possible information about the future, it probably should have been himself up on the wall rather than Chloe.

"Yeah, that was Chloe," he began. Then noticing Whitney's oversize Olympic jacket and straw hat the girl was still wearing, he was reminded of his own attire. Pulling off his white hat, he ran his fingers through his thick black hair before continuing. "So, are you okay with going to the States?"

"There is nothing to keep me in Germany now that my father is dead. The United States is as good as anywhere."

"Have you ever been there before?" asked Clark wondering about Chloe's comment that Gretchen had an important future there.

Gretchen shook her head. "No, I have never been out of Europe. I always wanted to go with my father on his expeditions, but he always said it was too dangerous. Too dangerous. And then the true danger turns out to be right here at home."

Clark watched as the girl's eyes began to tear up. He reached out to her and pulled her into a hug. There had been a few tears the first day after he rescued her from the chateau, but there hadn't been time since as she had been running on one long adrenaline rush ever since. But now he was afraid the reality of her situation might finally be setting in. Her father was dead. For her own safety she was headed to country where she didn't know anyone and all of her friends would have to be left behind. Clark thought he understood her feelings, at least a little. He too was at the moment cut off from everyone he cared about. But his parents were still alive back in the future and if everything went right his friends should be too. No, on second thought, maybe he didn't really understand what Gretchen was feeling.

Loosening his hug, he turned Gretchen so they could make their way over to the others.

"Hank, Marion, are you okay with taking care of Gretchen? I guess after Chloe's remark in the message I assumed Gretchen going with you was a forgone conclusion. But if that doesn't work for you, I will see to other arrangements."

"Of course, Gretchen is welcome to stay with us," announced Marion before shooting a quick look at Hank and getting a nod of concurrence. "It may be a little cramped at first, but I told Hank when I married him that we were going to have to find a bigger place."

Hank grinned. "I don't know if a long time bachelor like me is going to survive suddenly sharing a house with two women. You are going to have to promise not to gang up on me."

"We won't gang up on you, I promise," Marion said with a grin of her own. "Because I don't believe I need any help getting what I want from you. Do I?"

"No, dear," answered Hank adopting the whiny voice you always heard from the downtrodden husband in the movies.

"Can I go with you when you go on archeological expeditions?" asked Gretchen in a slightly hoarse voice as she wiped at the tears running down her face.

"I think after the way you handled the last few days, you should be able to handle a few weeks in South America. Of course, you can only go as long as it doesn't interfere with your school work," stated Marion without even checking with Hank this time for his assent.

Hank turned to Var. "I was going to suggest you drop us at home, but now I think you should drop us in Washington D.C. I have some friends in the State Department and I want to get the paperwork regarding Gretchen's status taken care of as soon as possible."

"Okay," responded Var as he started walking over to his control chair and doing some preliminary calculations in his head. "Since no one needs to do anything else here in Germany, we might as well be on our way. If we lift up out of the atmosphere, we should be able reach Washington in about twenty-five minutes."

As Var went to work with the ship's brain on plotting their course, Clark turned to Hank and Marion. "I guess before we get to America you better tell me everything Major Eckmann told you about where the artifact was found. I need to ensure in the future, Chloe knows exactly where to leave it."

+ - + - + - + - + - +

Even though Clark had never been to Washington before, he found the familiar landmarks from TV and the movies were easy to pick out. As he and Var with the others in-tow dropped down from the great height where they had left Var's ship hovering, the first he recognized was the tall obelisk-shaped spire of Washington's monument standing near the center of the long, relatively narrow green mall. And once he had the mall identified, he easily found the Capitol Building at one end and Lincoln's Memorial at the other. However they had to descend much closer to the ground before he finally was able to spot the White House.

The streets of the central portion of the city surrounding the green mall were lined with massive gray office buildings. These were the headquarters of the various departments of the legislative and executive branches of the government. They weren't exactly identical, but Clark knew he still would never be able to tell the Department of Transportation building from the Department of Commerce building let alone identify the State Department building. Fortunately, Hank had been to D.C. many times before and had explained the State Department building was only a couple of blocks from the Lincoln Memorial and how there were several small groves of trees near that end of the mall which they could use for a discrete arrival.

Approaching the ground, Clark did a quick survey of the mall near the Lincoln Memorial. With the great speed of Var's ship, they had reached Washington within thirty minutes of setting out from the sky above Berlin. Speeding so rapidly across the six time zones separating the two capitol cities meant while it was mid-afternoon when they had left Berlin, it was still only mid-morning on their arrival. The mall wasn't yet filled with tourists on this sunny August morning, however there were more men out and about in suits than Clark expected on a Saturday. But then the five-day, forty-hour workweek that was the norm in Clark's world was not yet a reality in 1936 America. No, even in the government, a five and a half day week was typical.

Spiraling down, Clark found a reasonably thick clump of trees separating the mall proper from a small park which featured a couple of baseball diamonds. The edge of the trees formed the outer limit of the nearest field and as Clark descended into the trees from above he could see a group of little leaguers and their parents gathering around the bleachers for the start of a game.

Several footpaths wound through the trees and with only a little hunting Clark found a spot where their arrival wouldn't be visible to anyone within three hundred feet. After he and Var had eased their passengers to the ground, they dropped out of 'speed-mode'.

"Welcome to America," announced Clark with a sweep of his arm as Hank, Marion, and Gretchen's heads once more jerked rapidly around to take in their surroundings after the abrupt relocation.

Without waiting for a response, Clark headed down the path in the direction which would lead them out of the trees and onto the mall. Immediately upon clearing the trees the first thing Clark saw in the middle distance was Washington's Monument. It soared six hundred feet into the sky and looked like a ten-times-larger scaled up version of the obelisk he had used as a battering ram back in ancient Rome. But this monument would never be put to a similar use; not because of its giant size, but rather because it was an assembly of countless smaller blocks and hadn't been carved from a single block. No, if in the future he ever needed a battering ram of this truly massive scale, he would be better off using something like the German battleship he had lifted clear of the ocean only hours earlier. And if he were to stand that ship on its tail here in the mall like he had done out above the Baltic Sea, its pointed prow would tower two hundred feet above the tip of Washington's Monument.

For a moment Clark was once more struck with the seeming impossibility of what he had done with the battleship. Piecing together the bits of ancient Kryptonian history Var had told him with what Chloe had said about her original civilization, Clark was fairly certain Kryptonians had originally been Earth-borne humans from Chloe's era who had been brought, voluntarily or involuntarily, to Krypton. And to make it possible for them to survive on Krypton, their bodies had been, by some unknown method, extensively altered. He couldn't imagine what technology was involved, but it hardly seemed like the nanotechnology of that era, was advanced as it was, could account for a man being able to fly while lifting 50,000 tons. Was it this conundrum Chloe was referring to when she had mentioned the importance of 'the things you have learned' in her message?

Knowing he wasn't going to find any answers at this moment and hoping his subconscious would find a solution he couldn't presently see, Clark forced his attention back to the present. Sweeping his gaze around to the right, he saw the colonnaded front of the Lincoln Memorial. The marble structure was almost difficult to look at as the blazing sun made it gleam a brilliant white. And Clark felt his spirits lifting although he wasn't sure whether it was more due to the lack of black and gray German military uniforms or the exchange of the gray, drizzly weather of Berlin for the sun-drenched American capitol. Whatever the cause, he was just glad that standing out here in the fresh air under the bright sun suddenly made the rest of Chloe's message seem more upbeat than it had on first hearing in Var's ship. He suddenly felt he had been trying to read too much into her message. Doubtlessly, she had said nothing about the fate of the others for exactly the reason she had stated – so as to not screw up the timeline. Although whatever the motivation for her comments, it was another topic where there was nothing he could do about it except soldier on as best as he could.

Quietly Gretchen stepped up beside him. "It is really beautiful here."

Clark nodded as he turned to look to the left passed the Washington Monument. Unfortunately their current location only gave a limited view of the mall passed the giant monument and they would have to walk at least seventy-five or a hundred feet further out on to the mall to be able to see the Capitol building.

"Yes, it is," answered Clark. "Although from what I have heard the prettiest time of the year is in the spring when the cherry trees are in full blossom. I have never been here then, but I have seen a number of photographs."

"It is very beautiful at that time of year," confirmed Hank, who, with one arm wrapped around his wife, had stepped up on Clark's other side. "You really should try to visit sometime in the spring."

Clark nodded as he realized so much more of the world was suddenly open to him now that he was able to fly. If he and Chloe decided to come for a stroll around the mall and a quick bite of lunch, they could even do it during a school day and still easily make it back for their next class. Of if his Mother wanted to go shopping in Paris or Rome or Milan, it could be a simple afternoon junket. And at that moment, he knew he was going to tour more of the world than he had ever dreamed before this latest adventure.

Turning to face Clark, Hank stuck out his hand. "Clark, I don't know if I ever properly said thank you for getting me out of that dungeon. If you hadn't come along, I don't know what would have happened, but I don't think it would have ended pleasantly."

Clark took Hank's hand and gave it a firm shake. "You're welcome; although without your help, my dealings with the Germans wouldn't have been nearly as easy. And not to mention your help in acquiring the artifact I originally came for."

As soon as the two men's hands came apart, Gretchen pulled Clark around into a hug. "And thank you for saving me from the dungeon, too."

Clark carefully returned the hug. "I am just sorry I wasn't around in time to save your father."

Gretchen nodded as tears began to fill her eyes. "I'll miss you, Clark."

Clark felt his own eyes misting up as the girl stepped back and Marion took her place. "I'm sorry about your friends, Clark," she said quietly.

Clark knew things weren't as grim yet as they probably appeared to Marion. Not wanting to leave her with only dark memories of their encounter, he answered. "Hopefully when I catch up to Lana I will be able to figure out someway to restore her original personality. And truthfully, this isn't even the first time something like this has happened to her."

And as he said the words it was like a light bulb went off in his head – IT WASN'T THE FIRST TIME IT HAD HAPPENED TO HER. When they had returned from ancient Rome, Chloe had used a special little black box which had effectively done a hard reset on Lana's bot system and wiped the memory units clean. Doing the same thing now might cost Lana some of her memories of the past few weeks, and it might destroy the copy of Laura in her system, but as a last resort it should wipe out Sliviuh, too.

At the moment it was only a glimmer of a possible solution, but it certainly seemed worthy of a lot more thought and planning. However for now, he needed to keep his attention on the moment.

"And as for Whitney, well, I do have a time machine. With a little, okay, a lot of luck I should be able to go back to the battleship and save him. But first I need to figure out how to save Chloe, as she is the time machine expert."

As Marion began to pull away after giving him one final hug, Clark could see the relief in her eyes; she had understood and accepted the possibility that Clark's two friends might be alright. 'Now,' thought Clark, 'I just need to achieve that same level of certainty in my own mind.'

The three who were staying behind in Washington then shook hands with Var. They had all spent far less time with Var particularly in life-or-death situations than they had with Clark and therefore things remained a lot more formal.

With the five of them standing in two distinct groups, Hank glanced up at the sky. "Well, we really should be on our way. Most of the offices around here will start closing down in a couple of hours and we have a lot to get down."

"Are you going to be okay?" asked Clark. "I mean money and a place to stay. I am sure I can scrounge up some extra cash if you need it."

"Thanks for the offer, Clark," answered Hank with a shake of his head. "But we will be fine. I have several acquaintances at Georgetown University who will be happy to put us up for a couple of days."

"Good," responded Clark. And then he remembered the one thing he had been curious about ever since he had been back here, but had been afraid to ask in case it raised questions he couldn't answer. But since he might never see the Joneses again, he couldn't help but ask it now. "Oh, and Hank, does the name Indiana mean anything special to you?"

Without even a moment's hesitation, Hank shook his head as Clark watched. "Beyond the state of that name? No, why do you ask?"

"Someone I knew a long time ago mentioned it in association with you and I have always been curious."

Hank shook his head again. "Sorry, but I still don't recollect anyone using that name."

Clark shrugged. So the whole Indiana Jones name must have been some fabrication of George Lucas'. "No, biggie. As I said, it was just mentioned in passing."

After Hank gave a matching shrug, his small party started to move away. Before they were out of earshot, Marion turned back and called out a final, "I'll never forget you or the time I got to spend with your friends."

Clark and Var waved until the others turned a corner and disappeared from sight. Then after a couple of minutes of companionable silence, Var brought up an idea which had been playing in his mind for awhile.

"Clark, before you return to your own time, would you be interested in accompanying me back to Krypton for a short visit? If I understand the theory behind how your time machine works, whether you head back now or delay your departure by a few weeks, in the end you will arrive back home at exactly the same time."

Clark had dreamed about visiting his homeworld a lot, particularly in the past eighteen hours since he had met Var. How could he forget the dream or hallucination or whatever it was he had experienced while down in the driveshaft tunnel? But in that dream Chloe had been with him. Would it ever be possible for Chloe to join him for a real visit to Krypton? It certainly seemed unlikely if people required abilities like his merely to seem normal there.

So Var's offer seemed like a dream come true, at least until Clark considered the downside, and he seemed to have encountered a lot of downside in the passed week. What if something happened which left him stranded there with no way back to save his friends? Var had been stranded here for two years before his ship had been ready for the return attempt. What if he ended up stuck there for years or even longer?

Finally, Clark shook his head. "I think I am going to have to pass this time, Var. My friends are counting on me. Chloe and Lex are dying. Whitney is dead. Lana is possessed by some ancient evil personality of Chloe's. No, what if something happens and I am stranded on Krypton? I mean you have been stuck here for two years. What if something like that or worse happens? Who is going to help them then? Chloe has been working on a much more powerful power source for the time machine which would hopefully have the range to reach Krypton, but it is still months from completion and that assumes Chloe is available to supervise the work."

When Clark finally wound down, Var understood that in Clark's mind a trip to Krypton fell in the category of personal pleasure and helping his friends had to come first. Var considered for a moment reminding Clark that his friend Chloe's presence in the message showed he would ultimately make it home safely. But then he remembered the true reason he had been stranded here for two years. It was not because of any defect in his teleportation drive that he was stranded here, but rather he had been stranded because of a direct hit by a missile from a Kryptonian Defense Force Cruiser. And just because he had been gone for two years didn't mean they were suddenly going to love him on his return. No, if they didn't try to destroy him on sight, there was still the very real possibility they would attempt to confiscate his ship. Perhaps Clark was right about ending up stranded on Krypton. Var could suddenly imagine it taking years to build another system capable of teleportation across true interstellar distances.

"Well, Clark, when you put it that way, you may be right. I haven't been stranded here because of a problem with my drive system or any other component of my ship. The reason I have been stranded is because my own people tried to shoot me down. And I am not certain I am going to get a warmer reception on my return."

"Your own people?" asked Clark in surprise. This was something Var hadn't mentioned before. "Why would your people try to shoot you down?"

"Based on a lot of data I have collected over the past few years as well as trends in data stretching back a thousand years, I project a bleak future for Krypton. I have been before the ruling council of Krypton to explain my theory, but they don't want to hear it. After I discussed my plan to look for a new world to resettle the population, they tried to confiscation my ship. In the end I had to make a run for it and it was a near thing. I mean you have seen the damage to the hull of my ship caused by one of their missiles."

Clark knew Chloe had back-traced his little ship's trajectory from the day he had crash-landed in Smallville. She had discovered the path eventually intersected with a destroyed planet. Maybe at last he was about to find out what had happened to Krypton.

"Var, what does your data show about Krypton's future? I mean I showed up on Earth all alone and have never met anyone else from Krypton. We have found astronomical data which indicates something catastrophic. Please, I need to know."

Var suddenly was afraid he had already said more than he should have. Clark and his friend Chloe were trying hard to close this timeloop without changing their own present. But wasn't the remaining years of Krypton's existence, by similarity, another large timeloop from Clark's perspective? Would telling Clark what he guessed from his data chance disrupting that loop? Perhaps it was Krypton's destiny to be destroyed and take her civilization with her. Maybe he had been taking the wrong tack in trying to save the whole population and should instead focus on saving a select few. And that route would let him fly under the Council's radar and at least save the seed necessary for the rise of a new Kryptonian civilization in some distant future.

"I am sorry, Clark. I think your friend in the message is right. Too much knowledge about the future is a dangerous thing. I may have already said more than I should."

Clark looked into the older man's eyes and realized he wouldn't budge on this topic. He could understand his rationale in the same way he could understand Chloe's, but understanding didn't make it any easier. It seemed like there was so much he could achieve with his great gifts, if only he knew what was going on. But at every turn his friends forced him to work in the dark. Damn, life could be so frustrating.

Var could almost read what was going on in Clark's mind from the expression playing across his face. Slowly he turned and reached out to clasp his hands on the younger man's shoulders.

"Clark, I know it's hard feeling that you have all of the special abilities available to us here and yet not have the information necessary to know what is the best thing to do. But that's the way life is for everyone, special abilities or not. All we can do is make the best choices possible at the time and keep moving forward."

Clark felt his eyes tearing up although he wasn't sure if it was due to Var's imminent departure or something else. "I am hardly the poster boy for good choices. Look at what happened back on the battleship. If I had rescued the girls rather than letting Hank and Whitney do it, Whitney would still be alive and Lana wouldn't have disappeared through the time machine."

Perhaps they were getting to the core of what was bothering Clark, thought Var. "Clark sometimes you can't do everything yourself. How would you feel if Chloe was in trouble and every time you wanted to do something to help, I stepped in and told you to wait patiently in the corner while I handled it? Eventually, you would come to resent me. Hank, Whitney, and everyone else here may not have our abilities but nevertheless have the same need to be part of the solution to problems as we do. Sometimes you have to let them look out for themselves or they will come to hate you, even if it means risking their lives. I know it is a hard thing to face, but is part of growing up and becoming an adult."

Clark nodded and knew Var was right, but still couldn't prevent a single tear from running down his cheek.

"Are you going to be okay?" asked Var.

Clark took a step back and wiped at the tear. "Yeah, it's just hard going through all that has happened in the past week and I still don't feel any closer to finding a solution to Chloe's condition."

"I know it's difficult, but I know you will find the answer. Just remember your friend in the message. If there wasn't a solution, she couldn't have sent it. I think you need to keep that in mind."

"So, I guess this is good-bye," stated Clark trying to get into the more positive mindset Var suggested by repeating to himself in his head 'Chloe is going to be okay since she was in the message'.

"Yeah," said the older man. "You have things to do up in the future and it has been two long years since I have seen Salva and my children."

Clark chastised himself for wallowing in his concerns. It was only a week since he had seen Chloe and Lex in good health, a few days since he had seen Lana and a few hours since he had seen Whitney. Var had gone two years without seeing his family.

Sticking out his hand, Clark answered. "It has been a pleasure to know you. I didn't know anything about where I was from, about Krypton, until I met you. Thank you so very much for the information you have been able to share. You will never know how much it means to me."

Var took the offered hand, but then pulled Clark into a hug. "Don't make it sound so final. I have a teleportation device and you have a time machine. It is a strange universe we live in. I have a strong sense our paths will cross again."

When Clark heard Var's words the strangest shiver he ever remembered went down his spine. He, too, had the sense they would meet again, but he couldn't get out of his mind a quick shimmer of dread. Not sure of its meaning, he quickly quashed the thought. Stepping back, he bid the older Kryptonian farewell with a quick, "Say hello to your family from me."

With a small nod of his head, Var said good-bye and then shifted into 'speed-mode' and disappeared in the blink of an eye.

Clark considered shifting into 'speed-mode' to follow his friend's departure, but then decided there wasn't any point in stretching out the moment. By the time he turned his gaze up to the sky and located the tiny dot with his powerful vision, the ship was already beginning to move. Rapidly it began to accelerate and then abruptly he knew it was gone, more from the absence of its drive signature in his special senses than from losing it from visual sight.

After a few seconds Clark lowered his gaze from the sky and once more swept it across the mall. For a moment he considered taking a little time to tour the nearby monuments before his return trip to the future, but in the end decided against it. They would all still be here when he got back home and it would be a lot more fun touring them with Chloe along than doing it alone, as doubtlessly she would have some personal anecdotes about either their construction or more probably about the men they honored.

Stepping back into the shelter of the grove of trees, Clark pulled out his communication device. Thumbing it on, he said in a clear voice, "Back to the Future".

Almost immediately as the green doorway formed in front of him, he felt the first nauseating effect of the meteor rocks which made the Portal Device possible. While waiting for the doorway to finish solidifying, Clark decided it was time for a more appropriate name for the meteor rocks. Assuming since they had arrived with him that they were also from Krypton, the most appropriate name which popped into his head was 'Kryptonite'.

With the green Kryptonite-powered doorway fully formed there wasn't any excuse for not proceeding through. Although he most certainly wished that there was, as passage through the machine was the most horrifically painful thing he had ever experienced as it felt like the Kryptonite was ripping his body apart, atom-by-atom. And to make matters worse, this was his first time going through alone without anyone to look out for him on the far side when he was most vulnerable. No, this time the only one who might be on the far side was Sliviuh. Suddenly, as he remembered how completely incapacitated he was after passing through the machine, his earlier plan to simply pull her into a bear hug if they happened to materialize at the same time seemed completely laughable. But whether he went through now or in an hour or a day, the risk would be the same.

After patting down the pockets of the Blue Olympic blazer he still wore to ensure the photos of Lana, Whitney, and himself on their first day at the Olympic Trials were still there, he took one last deep breath to prepare himself. Then with a determined stride, Clark stepped into the device.

End of Chapter 20

----------

Duane


	21. Biological Families Chapter 21

1/22/07

Biological Families

Chapter 21

Sliviuh stepped out of the Portal.

As she glanced around the alley where the portal had dumped her, she started a new ten minute countdown timer in her 'bot computer system. Via memories stolen from Laura, who in turn had received the information from Chloe, Sliviuh knew the Portal device was pre-set for a ten minute interval before opening in this time period again. So, whether Clark remained in 1936 for thirty seconds longer than her or thirty days longer, when he tried to move forward in time the portal would open ten minutes after hers to prevent accidental 'two objects in one place' conundrums. Therefore she had ten minutes to get clear before risking encountering Clark with all of his extraordinary abilities; something she wasn't yet prepared to do. Although it might be something she was going to have to face sooner than she would like.

Without even looking down, she knew the first thing she had to do was acquire some alternate clothing. Her white sailor's blouse was soaked with blood and, annoyingly, most of it was hers. If she walked out to the busy street she could see at the entrance to the alley, she would at a minimum cause a scene and at worst end up having to deal with either paramedics or cops. And at the moment she had more important things to attend to.

Scanning the area she spotted a half open dumpster. 'Dumpster Diving' – what an auspicious way to return to power, she thought. But as the timer in her head continued to tick down, she sprinted the twenty yards while simultaneously stripping off her top. Reaching the dumpster she paused to use a clean corner of the white blouse to scrub at the blood staining her throat and face before dropping her blood sodden garment. Hopefully the blood congealing in her hair would be less obvious than it would have been in her original body's blonde hair. Then throwing open the lid of the dumpster she vaulted over the side; this was no time to be squeamish. Tossing useless trash over the side onto the pavement, she feverishly dug. After eight precious seconds she found an old discarded black tee shirt. It was at least four sizes too big, had a large tear under one arm, and was emblazoned in white lettering with 'Sex Instructor . . . First Lesson Free!'. It certainly wouldn't be her first choice, at least not today, but 'beggars can't be choosers'.

She gathered her prize, climbed back out of the dumpster and then slipped the tee shirt on. It hung half way to her knees, which wasn't a bad thing as it helped hide some of the blood which was also staining her white dungarees.

Sliviuh was just about to make her escape from the alley when the blood-soaked sailor's blouse caught her attention. Quickly she knelt down, rubbed her right index finger in the dampest location, and then used the blood to scrawl a message on the side of the dumpster.

When she was finished an evil little grin briefly graced her face as she paused for a moment to stare at what she had written. Menacing, yet vague, it had just the right zing to be a nice little opening round salvo in the psychological war she planned to wage against Clark.

After retrieving the communication device from where she had set it on the ground and then standing back up, Sliviuh turned and sprinted to the mouth of the alley just over thirty yards away. The important thing, now, was to get clear of the alley and figure out exactly where she was.

Slowing to a brisk walk as she reached the street, she turned right leaving the alley with nine minutes eight seconds remaining before Clark should make his appearance. Sliviuh found herself on an old residential street lined with four to six story buildings. Knowing the target destination had been New York, from the architectural style she was most likely somewhere on the lower east side of Manhattan. About two blocks ahead she could see a park on the opposite side of the street. Crossing the street she saw a sign telling her she was on East 7th Street, so the park ahead had to be Tompkins Square. It had been decades since the original Chloe had been in this park, but Sliviuh knew if she cut across it she would come out on East 10th. There should be sufficient cover along that edge of the park for her to safely wait for a ride with minimal risk of Clark finding her.

The timer in her head ticked down to six minutes twenty seven seconds as she entered the park and lifted the communication device to her ear.

After pressing the cell phone button, she said. "Dial two one two seven seven six four zero six three."

After two rings the call was answered by a male voice with a hint of a British accent. "Belmont Towers. How may I help you?"

"Charles," Sliviuh began in a voice that wasn't quite Chloe's. She paused to cough loudly a couple of times to buy her a few seconds before trying again. Lana's vocal cords were sufficiently different from her own to throw off her skills at mimicking voices. Although mimicking her own voice should be the easiest of all.

"Sorry, about that Charles," she began again feeling she was a lot closer this time. "This is Denise Webber." Denise Webber was one of the more recent names Chloe had used during the second time she had lived through the past two thousand years after being stranded in ancient Rome by the Portal machine. This name and contact information was part of the long list of her former names plus locations of emergency caches of funds down through history that Chloe had passed on to Lana in case she should ever again find herself stranded in time. It was very generous of Chloe to help her in this way, thought Sliviuh, even if Chloe had never meant for her to be the recipient.

"Ms. Webber, it has been a long time," responded Charles, the concierge at the extremely exclusive residence where only three of the forty seven units had exchanged hands in the past eighty years. If one place defined 'old money', it was Belmont Towers.

"Yes, it certainly has," answered Sliviuh as she skirted passed the dog run area of the park. "Unfortunately, it is still going to be awhile longer until I see you in person. I am in Firenze at the moment."

"Ah, it has been way too long since I have had time to visit Italy," said Charles, conversationally. Then after the briefest of pauses to let her respond if she desired to carry on with the small talk, he continued in a more business like tone, "Well, Ms. Webber, how can I be of service today?"

"I just received a most hysterical call from an old friend's daughter. She has been mugged in Tompkins Square Park. They got all of her belongings except her cell phone. They got her ID and her hotel information so now she is afraid to return there. I am the only one she knows in the city so she called me. Since I am out of town, I am turning to you. Can you send a car to fetch her and let her stay in my apartment for a few days? I would much appreciate it."

Sliviuh suspected he would respond in the positive. From the information she had gleaned from the data package Chloe had left in Lana's 'bot memory system, she knew Charles was one of Chloe's special 'problem solvers'. Like Rogerus back in ancient Rome, Charles was one of those individuals she had come to trust to discreetly take care of delicate situations with a minimum of fuss or supervision. And compared to some of the requests Sliviuh guessed he had been asked to handle in the past, this was downright pedestrian.

"Of course, Ms. Webber. Where exactly shall I send Wayne and how will he recognize the girl?"

"She will be on the East 10th Street side of the park. She is about five foot four with long dark hair and looks about sixteen. She is wearing a long, battered black tee shirt that says something about sex instructor on the front. Oh, and her name is Laura, ah, Laura Lee."

"Very good, Ms. Webber. Wayne will be at the park in twenty minutes to pick her up and then I will see that she is well taken care of."

"Thanks, Charles. I won't forget this," answered Sliviuh before breaking the connection.

As she continued to hike across the park, Sliviuh tried to figure out how best to proceed, once she was ensconced in Chloe's old apartment here in Manhattan. She had two days before the events in the storm cellar. As long as she didn't tap too heavily into any on-line finances of the Denise Webber personae, she shouldn't trigger any alarms which would reach Chloe's attention before then. Finances shouldn't be any problem even without tapping the Denise Webber accounts, as there were several nice fat emergency caches of gold and jewels right here in Manhattan, which Chloe wouldn't miss for years, if ever. And if Clark did find some way of saving Chloe after the events in the storm cellar and Chloe started searching for activity involving any of her old aliases, well, she would be long gone from Manhattan by then, one way or another. Although hopefully Chloe would never have the opportunity to search for her, because with luck – no with skill, hard work, and determination - she should have repossessed her old body before then.

Sliviuh was just cutting through a thick grove of trees when she was abruptly accosted by two large men.

"Hey, sweet thang," drawled the leader of the pair with a slur to his voice indicating he had already been heavily into drugs or booze. And by the clock Sliviuh had seen, it was only ten in the morning.

Pointing at her tee shirt, he continued. "How'sa bout that free lesson you are offering?"

After glancing down briefly at her tee shirt as though this was the first time she had noticed what she wearing, she tilted her head back up and looked at the man. If either man had been half-way sober, they would have broke and run in fear after just one look at the evil glimmer in the girl's eye. But neither of them was that sober, and they simply thought they had gotten lucky when she responded with a simple – 'Sounds like fun, I have a few minutes to kill before my ride gets here. So, lead the way.'

As the two men, who couldn't have been much over nineteen or twenty, shared a quick high five, Sliviuh ran an appreciative eye over the hard bodies of what would hopefully be the first of many recruits into her new 21st Century army.

- + - + - + - + - +

Sliviuh lounged against one of the many elm trees along the East 10th Street edge of the park keeping an eye out for the limo which was coming to pick her up. She was in an excellent mood; assimilating someone's mind was almost as good as fucking them. But the best was when you got to do both at once like now.

As soon as she had finished using them for her pleasure, she had sent them scurrying off to the alley where she had arrived. Clark would probably have come and gone, but it didn't cost her anything to use the two men in this way. They had been instructed to stake out the alley for an hour. Then if they didn't encounter Clark, whose image she had downloaded into their minds, they were to head over to Doctor Swann's residence above the New York planetarium and keep the building under surveillance until they received further instructions from her.

She wished she knew more about this Doctor Swann, but Laura had only received a limited amount of information from Chloe rather than a complete data dump during the two days they shared a body after the Roman adventure and before Laura had returned to Lana's body. If there had been more time before Clark's imminent arrival, she would have paid the Doctor a visit for her own special brand of interrogation. But she knew Clark would head straight there after his arrival and with his incredible speed, he might be there within seconds of his arrival. However most likely, the Doctor was only going to help figure out the use of whatever the device was that Clark had traveled back to 1936 to retrieve. And perhaps Clark might not even need the explanation; it might be completely obvious. Damn, even more than she wished she had an opportunity to interrogate Swann, she wished she had seen and/or handled the device itself. Knowing how Clark might save Chloe and Lex could make a difference in how she was going to recover her old body from Chloe.

However she didn't spend much time wishing for information she didn't have. No, she had learned thousands of years ago to simply expect the worst and plan accordingly. Most of the time that worked, unless something truly unpredictable happened - like the chain of events which had led to her original downfall.

She straightened up, walked to the curb, and waved at the approaching limo. It pulled up and paused near her on the other side of the row of parked cars. Quickly, she stepped between two of the parked cars and walked up to the passenger side window. As she approached, the window rolled down just far enough that the driver could hear her in the sound-proofed interior.

Sliviuh leaned up to the window. "Hi, I'm Laura Lee. Are you here for me?"

"Yes, although the girl I am here to pick up is supposed to be wearing a black tee shirt that says 'Sex Instructor'," responded the man with a thick Brooklyn accent.

"Yeah, that's me," answered Sliviuh with an overt glance down at the plain white tee shirt she had 'borrowed' from one of her new converts. "I'm afraid immediately after the mugging that was all I could find to wear. But while I have been waiting I managed to scrounge up this one, which I like better. However, if you really need to see my old tee shirt, well, give me a few minutes to go dig it out of the trash can where I left it. Oh, your name is Wayne, right?"

The driver stared at her for a few moments and then gestured to the back. "No, Ms. Lee, I don't think digging up the other tee shirt will be necessary. Please get in and I will take you back to the Belmont."

Sliviuh flashed him a smile followed by a small nod of her head before moving back to the rear entrance of the stretch limo.

She had barely pulled the door shut when the big limo glided smoothly and effortlessly back into the flow of traffic.

Sinking back into the deep, soft upholstery, Sliviuh had just gotten back to planning her next move when she felt another attempt by Lana to penetrate her defenses. The biggest problem Sliviuh had with sharing this body with its original owner was remaining in control. She wished there was some way she could simply eliminate Lana, but so far that had turned out to be impossible. The best she could do was keep the girl trapped in a virtual reality world. But the longer she was trapped, the more powerful and skillful Lana became. It was taking more and more effort to keep Lana from the secret which would once more give her control of her body. By Sliviuh's 'bots best estimate, she had at most seventy-two more hours before it would take one hundred percent of her attention to fight the girl, which would effectively drop her into a catatonic state and leave her helpless. So, she had that long to find a way to permanently subjugate the girl, or eliminate the girl's personality, or figure out how to relocate to a more receptive body.

The only body besides Lana's where she was certain to find a functional 'bot network was her old body, so that made Chloe her most logical choice. If that turned out to be impossible for any reason, the next best solution was to somehow use meteor rocks to make another body receptive to her 'bots; in the same way the 'bots introduced into Lana's body had remained active even after Chloe had broken physical contact due to Lana's long exposure to the meteor rock in her necklace. Of course, she didn't have years to expose a body to the meteor rocks like with Lana. However many of the 'meteor freaks' had displayed their gifts after only brief, extremely violent exposure. So if she put her mind and 'bot system to work on the problem, that approach might yield another solution.

Therefore, while her struggle to defeat Lana could take place anywhere, reacquiring her old body or using meteor rocks to make another body receptive both required a return to Smallville. It looked like everything was coming full circle. Just like Clark, her destiny might be linked to events in the storm cellar or shortly thereafter.

As this most current battle for control of Lana's body ramped up, Sliviuh forced her mind back into the world where she had trapped Lana.

- + - + - + - + - + - +

Lana stared across the wide valley bisected by a broad river of boiling blood and on up to the massive walls of the ancient city of Dis. Circling in the distance above the walls, she could just make out large winged creatures against the gloomy, perpetually overcast sky. If the rumors they had encountered in recent months were true, these were 'The Twenty' – angels banished to this region of Hades for the crimes of lust and pride. And if these really were the fallen angels, then the other portion of the rumors, that this was one of the dreaded 'damped zones' where her magic wouldn't work, was probably also true. Reaching forth with her enhanced senses, she could just make out the edges of the dampening field. She hated how the most important keys were always located in spots like this.

Would this be the one, she wondered. The one which would finally unlock all of her memories? There had been so many countless battles over the past five hundred years; at times she almost forgot why she continued to fight on. And after most of those battles, all she ever found were keys to the next step in her seemingly endless quest. Now, after all of the years spent searching, this next one would be the hundredth key she had uncovered. She hoped in her heart there would be something special about this one.

Sighing, she took one last look at the two mile wide roiling river of blood and tried to block out the screams of its denizens – the millions who were trapped in this particular level of hell and forced to forever wade against the current in the river Pyriphlegethon as it encircled the city walls like a giant impassable moat. Trying to momentarily shove thoughts of the river and its contents to the back of her mind, which was already bursting with the horrors of all the previous levels of hell she had had to traverse to reach this spot, she slowly shimmied back until she could rise without being silhouetted against the ridgeline. As she climbed back to her feet, she looked down at her two long-time companions in this seemingly endless quest.

Waiting patiently at the bottom of the hill in his perpetually clean, white tunic was the ancient winged God, Ares. One of the earliest keys she had found had led her to him. Many other people and things from her lost memories had been returned to her through the office of the keys. But while most of them were carefully secreted away in her base of operations back in early twentieth century Montana, only Ares had accompanied her on every new quest.

Well, that wasn't exactly true. One other had accompanied her, too. Mister Ed, her horse, who had been her constant companion since her first waking moment in Montana over five hundred years earlier. Not that he was the same Mister Ed as in those earliest days. No, one of her first acts on learning of her magical powers in this existence had been to give him the power of speech. As a result, they had enjoyed many fascinating conversations over the next few summers they had spent together in the high country of Montana rounding up wild Mustangs.

But over time Mister Ed had continued to morph, and she wasn't sure it was all of her own doing. Finally, for the past fifteen or twenty decades, the horse's appearance had stabilized in a new configuration - a giant winged Sphinx with the body of a lion standing eight feet tall at the shoulders, wings of an eagle with a forty-five foot span, and topped by the head of a girl with long, flowing blonde hair. The Sphinx's face now strongly resembled the girl Chloe, whom Lana had only met twice since her first awakening, but the Sphinx insisted its name was now Fah not Chloe or Mister Ed.

While Ares projected a calm appearance at her approach, as though he would be perfectly content to wait there for her forever, Fah pawed at the ground with a foreleg in a motion that looked more appropriate to a hoofed horse than to a giant lion with padded feet almost a foot in width. This wasn't the first time the old horse seemed to be in control of the Sphinx's body. No, generally the old Mister Ed personality seemed to be in charge of the body even if he now spoke with a soprano's voice rather than his former rich baritone. Only when the Sphinx's eyes changed from their normal gold to a brilliant vivid green, indicating it was about to speak in 'Oracle' mode, did it seem that someone other than the horse was in control. Lana suspected at those times it was the mysterious Chloe trying to pass messages to her, but she could never be one hundred percent certain. Whatever the true source, when the Sphinx went into 'Oracle' mode, she had found it was worth paying attention. For while its pronouncement often seemed almost as cryptic as those from the Oracle of Delphi, once correctly deciphered, they almost always provided useful information.

"The city of Dis and the river Pyriphlegethon are just over the next rise," began Lana with a jerk of her head towards the hill she had just descended. "I could see a few of The Twenty circling above the city. And even though we are still at least ten miles from the city proper, I can already feel the magical dampening field."

"Are there any routes across the river?" asked Ares.

Lana shook her head. "Not that I could find. The only option I see is to fly."

"I am more than happy to give you a lift," stated the Sphinx as she slowly flexed the four inch long claws of her front paws.

Lana nodded her thanks. It had been the arrival of Ares many centuries earlier which had triggered the concept in Lana's mind that she could use her magic to fly and she didn't even have to sprout giant wings like Ares or the Sphinx to do it. No, she could soar along with the others through the power of her thoughts alone. Everywhere that is except in the 'damping zones'. In the zones only winged creatures could fly, even seeming magically beasts could fly as long as they had wings. Lana didn't understand all of the underlying principles of this realm, but the 'damping field' mostly affected just her. Inanimate objects like weapons, healing elixirs, or jewels of power, retained their magical properties. Creatures like the Sphinx retained their form and abilities. Only she and other wielders of magic like wizards and warlocks were directly impacted. And she really hated it. Things were always easier when she had access to her long accustomed capability to get out of tight situations by merely 'imagining' a solution. But whining about it wasn't going to change anything and she would once again just have to depend on her wits and her little magic bag.

"Shall we be off then?" asked Ares raising Kerauno, his staff of power. Even as she watched, small bolts of lightning appeared to race up and down the shaft with the most intense glow surrounding the fist-sized sapphire mounted in the upper end. She had witnessed Ares use the staff to project beams of light, heat, and power to defeat countless monsters and enemies over the years. She knew he had no fear of going up against fallen angels.

"Let me just see what is in my bag for this occasion and then we can be off," she responded while sliding the battered old rucksack off her back.

The bag looked unremarkable at first glance, a plain brown leather bag with a simple flap covering the top and a pair of sheepskin-padded shoulder straps. As she lowered it to the ground, it appeared to weigh no more than a few pounds. And seated on its square base, the sack formed a roughly one foot by one foot by one foot cube.

However the bag was far from ordinary. Lana had received it from King Suleiman the Magnificent several centuries earlier as a reward for aiding him in the capture of Asmodeus, chief of the Jinn. After hearing of Lana's seemingly never-ending quest, Suleiman had used his power over the magical jinn to force Asmodeus to enchant the bag. Ever since, the bag was not only infinitely large on the inside, but also endowed with the ability of always locating the items she most needed right at the top. Over the long years of her quest, she had stored many items in the sack. Generally it was items she had placed there herself that she recovered when she delved her arm in, but occasionally she would find things she had no recollection of ever having seen before.

Certainly she could have created a bag like this with her own arcane abilities without needing a jinn, but as often was the case here, the true limiting factor was her imagination. Until Suleiman had presented the bag to her, the concept of a bag like this had simply never occurred to her. But it had certainly turned out to be useful, particularly in 'damped' zones since it permitted her to transport literally thousands of pounds of useful items like some character straight out of a video game. Video game? What was that, she wondered, as once again some term popped into her head from her lost memories.

Shaking her head slightly, Lana reached into the sack and the first thing she found was her brilliant golden armor. After stripping off her intricately patterned navy blue silk jacket and the matching trousers, she stowed them in the bag. Then Lana quickly donned the form-fitting gold breastplate and matching short pleated skirt woven from special golden thread. Her magic couldn't protect her in magic-damped zones, but she had long ago discovered gold offered more protection in hell regions than leather, bronze, or steel.

After pausing to ruffle her fingers through her short black hair, Lana slid on her golden helmet. Except for eye slits carved in the style of Egyptian cat eyes, it covered the upper half of her face. Each temple of the gleaming helmet was adorned with a swept-back feather design giving her head the appearance of some dangerous bird of prey.

Then, reaching back into the sack, she felt her hand close around the familiar hilt of her sword, Kirkagaard. Once the four foot long weapon was clear of the sack, she slid Kirkagaard half-way out of its scabbard. Instantly everything within thirty feet took on a violet tinge as power radiated from the potent blade. Satisfied, Lana slid the weapon back into its sheath and slung the long, two-handed implement across her bare back with the hilt protruding above her left shoulder, within easy reach of her right hand in an emergency.

Kneeling back down by the sack, Lana next pulled out a quiver with three golden arrows and a light, compact compound bow. Many centuries earlier the quiver would have been bulging with arrows, but after receiving the bag she had modified the quiver to similarly provide a replacement arrow every time one was withdrawn. It had certainly been handy eighty years earlier when she had been trapped in another 'damped zone' for three weeks with a seemingly endless supply of orcs, goblins, and trolls. Hopefully, this wasn't going to be another time like that, she thought as she slung the quiver across her back - although positioning the quiver diagonal to the sword so that the feathered tails were exposed above her right shoulder, again positioned for easy use in a combat situation.

After extracting from the bag a lethal looking hunting knife and a bull whip, both of which she attached to her belt, she started to swing the bag up towards her back to strap it on over the scabbard and quiver when some inner voice told her to stop and reach into the bag one final time. When she pulled out the small object which had fallen most readily to her hand, she couldn't help but pause to grin for a moment before slipping the object under the lower edge of her breastplate for safekeeping. Now with her gut satisfied she had extracted everything she would need for the next few hours, Lana finally strapped the bag to her back.

Retrieving her homemade compound bow from the ground, Lana rose to her feet. As she turned to move towards the Sphinx, she once more marveled at her unexpected proficiency with all of these arcane weapons. And for perhaps the thousandth time, it drove her to think about her mysterious background. Just like with her extraordinary language skills, her forgotten previous life had provided her with the uncanny knack to be proficient with any weapon that came to hand. Which was fortunate indeed since none of the more modern weapons, like her beloved shotgun, worked here in the heart of Hades. Still, she had to wonder about her previous life. Had she been some kind of assassin? It was the only explanation she could ever come up with for her strange combination of skills.

As she approached the Sphinx, it crouched down on its haunches to make it possible for Lana to climb onto its back. Keeping a loose grip on the bow, Lana used her legs and right hand to clamber up until her knees were tightly gripping the lion's body right behind the wings and her right hand was reaching forward to grab a thick handful of Sphinx's blonde mane.

Settling herself, she glanced over to where Ares had begun to unfurl his broad white wings. For just a moment, as they were raised high over his head, her mind flashed to a partial memory from her prior life she hadn't previously known she had. It was a memory of Ares, no back then his name had been Clark, standing in a cemetery directly in front of a grave marker topped by an angel with wings similar to those Ares now sprouted.

Lana tried to force more of the memory to the front of her mind and briefly it seemed like the memory involved her long-forgotten parents, but then it was gone. She felt an overwhelming urge to hit something out of frustration. Over the years many small bits of her memories had been recovered, but they never seemed able to jell into a coherent whole.

Then abruptly, while Lana was mostly distracted by the reemergence of several newly recovered memories, the Sphinx gave a powerful thrust of her wings and they were airborne. As they lifted into the air, the city of Dis came into view. And along with it came a significant increase in the level of stench in the air. Unbidden she had another brief flash of a lost memory of wearing a veil under somewhat similar circumstances. Hopefully, these frequent flashes were all signs the dam was about to break and all of her lost memories would soon return.

Quickly the Sphinx gained speed and altitude. As they climbed, Lana leaned forward and whispered into its ear suggesting they circle above their current location as they climbed in the hopes of drawing one or more of the fallen angels out to this spot beyond the magical dampening field. It would certainly help level the playing field if she had access to her magic during the initial confrontation.

But it was not to be. One of the angels swung in their direction, but paused in mid-air well within the boundaries of the dampening field. Reluctantly, Lana urged Fah forward.

With Ares maintaining pace off Fah's right wingtip, they swept forward in the direction of the angel. Since it had clearly seen them, there was no point to trying to evade it.

The approach took much longer than Lana had expected and it wasn't until they had flown for almost ten minutes that she understood why. The angel was much larger than a human or even than the Sphinx. From head to toe, it must measure at least thirty feet and its wingspan had to be well over a hundred. Lana suddenly wondered if the small object she had stowed under her breastplate was going to be sufficient to get them passed the angel.

"Halt!" exclaimed the angel in a voice that sounded like it came from a chorus of a thousand angels rather than from just one. And it was as beautiful as it was powerful.

Lana tightened her knees around Fah's back in a signal to comply and the Sphinx slowed to a hover about thirty feet from the angel and level with its large head.

Lana tried to find her voice to respond to the angel's challenge, but for a moment she was frozen by the incredible beauty of the creature. She, of course, had heard the stories of their unimaginably gorgeous appearance; however having never directly encountered one before, the stories had been impossible to truly comprehend. The angels were an androgynous race and this one's face seemed to perfectly blend the best features of both men and women. A proud, straight nose separated two high prominent cheekbones and floated above full pink lips which had to have been designed specifically for kissing. Two liquid silver eyes seemed to stare directly into Lana's soul as she sat dumbstruck on the Sphinx's back.

Perhaps sensing her distress, Ares suddenly raised Kerauno. As lightening bolts surged up into the dark sky from the pulsating staff, Ares roared, "Move aside, Oh Fallen One, so Princess Caledonia may pass!"

A startled expression briefly crossed the angel's face, although whether it was in response to Ares' action or in recognition of her battle-name, Lana wasn't certain.

Then its countenance darkened in a way that clearly explained its fall from the heavenly planes. "Dare not to speak to me in those tones. I, Semyazza, am the greatest of The Twenty and I tolerate no disrespect from mortals or lowly gods within my realm." The first words had been said with an icy frost to the achingly beautiful voice, but by the end the words were burning hot like molten lava.

As Semyazza raised its enormous right arm to smote Ares from the sky like some annoying insect, Lana quickly withdrew the small ivory and jade encrusted object from within her golden breastplate.

"Oh Mighty Lord Semyazza, please accept this humble token in return for access to your realm," cried Lana lifting the small glittering object high above her head. Carefully, she angled the silvered front so the angel would see the object was a mirror. Then once she saw the hunger in the angel's eyes, she continued. "Do we have a bargain?"

Semyazza's eyes never left the mirror as it croaked out a hoarse, almost desperate sounding, "Yes."

Lana tossed the mirror towards the angel and it quickly snatched it out of the air. The small four inch diameter mirror seemed to momentarily disappear into the angel's gigantic hand but almost immediately it was gently pinched between the thumb and forefinger and raised to its enormous face. The angel couldn't possibly see more than the tiniest fraction of its face at one time in the mirror, but its entire attention was focused on the mirror and the angel began to slowly drift away.

'VANITY, thy name is Semyazza,' thought Lana, glad she remembered her Dante and how the one stricture imposed on the all-powerful Twenty was an inability to conjure any device which would allow them to look upon their own countenance. Fortunately for her, the stricture hadn't prevented bringing such a device in from outside of Hades.

With one final glance at the angel, she urged Fah forward.

They were at two thousand feet and still climbing when they crossed above the edge of the river. Even at this great height the moans and cries of the people forever trapped in the churning waters were almost overwhelming and Lana was tempted to cover her ears. Instead she steeled herself and looked down into the crimson waters. What particular category of sins had stranded these people here? She thought the five hundred years she had been questing for the way out of this existence and back to her old life had seemed endless, but compared to thousands of years trapped in the boiling blood below, her life here suddenly didn't seem so bad.

Fah must have been feeling some of the same things as Lana, because the rate at which she was beating her wings definitely picked up and in only a few of minutes they were soaring passed the far bank of the river.

The great wall of the city of Dis was set back nearly a mile from the edge of the river. As they approached, Lana could feel its great age, the wall must be thousands of years old. And from its decrepit appearance, it looked like almost that long since the wall had seen any serious repairs. It towered three hundred feet in the air and was almost fifty feet thick, yet in some places the wall had tumbled almost all the way to the ground. Who had it been built to defend against, wondered Lana. What kind of titanic battles had taken place in Hades in times long forgotten?

Lana leaned forward and pointed passed Fah's head to a cleared area just inside the great wall. "Fah set us down over there." Things had a way of morphing in Hades, which made it difficult to find what you were looking for from the air. Just like her magical rucksack, from the air the city appeared to only extend for several miles, yet she knew from her studies, the city was unimaginably larger - for how else could it house its share of the billions of lost souls who had ended up in Hades over the long, long millennia?

For such a large creature, Fah made a deft landing and then resumed the crouch which would allow Lana to dismount. After swinging her leg up over Fah's back, Lana slid off on the Sphinx's left side and dropped lightly to the ground. Her feet had barely touched when the great lion rose back to its feet and then lifted its wings high above the girl before folding them back along its long torso.

Lana had just stepped forward passed Fah's shoulder when Ares landed on the Sphinx's other side. When she glanced at him, Lana saw he was still scanning the sky. She also saw how his staff was still releasing loud crackling lightning bolts into the heavily clouded sky. Not only were the bolts brightening the surrounding perpetual twilight, but they were also releasing staggeringly powerful peals of thunder which literally shook the nearest buildings.

"Ah, Ares, could you please put a leash on Kerauno? I would just as soon not prematurely announce our presence or, frankly, wake the dead," Lana hissed while throwing in a glare for good measure.

Ares stared back for a moment and then began to grin. "In case you haven't noticed, I think all the dead are already awake," he responded. However after one last glance to the skies, he did slightly lowered the staff and the massive lightning bolts were replaced by small ropes of yellow fire dancing silently around the sapphire.

Lana couldn't help grinning in return. "Okay, but I would just as soon not attract every one of them within ten miles. I'm sure you haven't forgotten Zombie Island already?"

Ares' face sobered and then he pretended to pick at some invisible piece of lint or dirt on the front of his white tunic. "No. I haven't forgotten."

Lana nodded and then turned to inspect their surroundings, but for a moment she couldn't get the mental image the words 'Zombie Island' conjured out of her head. Ares had been chained to the large sacrificial stone and as she had worked feverously to get him free, the ground had erupted with zombies. By the thousands they had clawed their way clear from their resting places and had come shambling towards them. She had barely gotten Ares free before the first of them had reached them. Unfortunately, Ares' wings had been severely damaged during the preceding rituals and it had been necessary to fight their way out on foot. It hadn't been quite as scary as the time with the orcs, trolls, and goblins, but still bad enough. How many more horrific things would she have to experience before she escaped this existence, she wondered. Taking in some of the abominations appearing in nearby doorways and windows, she remembered they were in the heart of Hell and knew the answer to her question was at least a few.

"This way," said Fah as she headed at a lope across the open plaza where they had landed towards a street leading deeper into the heart of the city.

Lana had only managed a brief glance at the Sphinx's face, but it had been enough to see the brilliant green of her eyes. If Fah was in 'oracle' mode, it would be best to follow her suggestions. Although she would have followed the great beast/woman anyway, as this was no time for the three of them to get separated.

Looking towards Ares, she saw he was already moving to follow the Sphinx yet his eyes were focused on a building on the far side of the plaza. Lana followed his gaze and before things had fully registered her right hand was already pulling an arrow from her quiver and her feet had sped up to a run.

Roaring out of the entrance to the crumbling building was a near tidal wave of were-dogs. Smaller than were-wolves she had encountered several times before, these tortured souls, which had probably been household pets in their former lives, were just as mean and vicious as their larger cousins. And in large packs they were equally effective killers.

As Lana raced after the Sphinx and was preparing to call her old friend back so they could fly out and look for an alternate entry point, Lana looked back towards Ares. He wasn't following, but standing where he had been while gesturing with his great staff. After a few seconds he lifted the staff with both hands and held it above his head parallel to the ground.

"Kora-tor!" shouted Ares. Immediately the entire length of Kerauno pulsed with yellow fire. Then the fire sprang forth and formed a barrier wall fifty feet tall and extending the full width of the plaza.

Turning to look at Lana where she had finally paused, Ares grinned. And as the yellow light of the fire highlighted his shoulder-length curly black hair, he threw her a wink. "I wasn't in the mood for running."

Lana could hear the dogs howling on the far side of the flaming barrier. "Very impressive, although it seemed pretty risky."

"What risk?" laughed Ares, as with one powerful stroke of his wings he launched himself into the air. Then swinging low, he grabbed Lana up into his arms and beat a path after the retreating form of the Sphinx who was just about to disappear around a bend in the street she had chosen.

As Ares flew barely four feet above the trash strewn street, Lana once more reflected on his reckless nature. But then what could you else could you expect from a god?

- + - + - + - +

They hiked across the city of Dis for countless hours. No clocks worked anywhere in Hades and no days or nights broke the perpetual twilight to give any clue as to the passage of time. But then, of course, for the souls trapped in Hell that was the whole point; they were here for eternity.

Lana estimated they had been trekking through the great city for at least twelve hours and had covered maybe twenty miles. It was as she had expected when she had originally suggested they landed just inside the wall; the city was far vaster on the ground then it had appeared from the air.

And the city was also not the monotony Lana had expected, but rather an enormous hodge-podge of architectural styles from countless time periods and cultures. Apparently, Hades didn't discriminate based on race or philosophy. No, everyone was welcome to come and spend any eternity of despair here.

They passed through neighborhoods from Christian, Islamic, Jewish, Hindu, Buddhist, and every other religious background ever imaged. The neighborhoods ranged from prehistoric stone ages through the middle ages and right up to the most modern. However the one thing they all shared was the sense of disrepair as though no one cared about maintaining the infrastructure. And probably no one did, at least they hadn't come across anyone who actually wanted to be here.

The luckiest ones, if any here could be called that, seemed to be lost in a perpetual stupor completely unaware of what was going on around them. The less lucky ones seemed to be aware, but were forever stuck in an unending loop of torture and death. They had paused once to watch a man enter the street from a doorway in building that looked straight out of Shakespearean London. He moved along the front of the building looking fearfully over his shoulder, but as he was looking back two women with sharp knives approached from the front. After haranguing the man for several minutes as he cowered in obvious terror, the women proceeded to use their knives to slice off his clothes, then his skin, and finally they removed – one by one – all of his internal organs. Throughout this ordeal the man screamed in pain and pleaded for mercy until nothing was left of him but a bare skeleton. After the women wandered away, the skeleton slowly dissolved away. Then as they continued to watch, the cycle started all over with the same man exiting out of the same doorway.

Throughout this long journey through Dis, where they had had to use their magical weapons to defend themselves on numerous occasions, the great Sphinx never wavered. She seemed to have a firm fix on their destination.

Finally, they turned a corner and suddenly found themselves in what looked like Las Vegas. A Hades-version of what the city might have been like in the 1950s, but Vegas all the same. A long row of casinos and hotels lined the Strip, but most of their famous neon lights were either broken or slowly flickering as though they were on their last legs.

"City of Lost Dreams - a most appropriate place to find in Hell,' thought Lana. She was a little surprised when Fah turned and started heading down the center of the street until she suddenly felt it, too. The key they had come all the way to Hell to find was suddenly near.

This street was by far the most crowded they had seen since arriving in Dis. For all the millions, perhaps billions of people trapped in Dis, most of them were here to experience their own private hell and things were spread out enough to allow that to happen. But this street, this Vegas, was for a different personality type among the lost souls. With one look, Lana could tell most of the people who were aimlessly wandering this street were the private types who abhorred ever being noticed and who had slid through life always staying in the background. So their hell had to require the exact opposite, they had to experience their worst fears in the most public of ways.

Most of the people trapped in the city seemed completely oblivious to Ares, Lana, and Fah. Oh, occasionally they would be noticed and attacked like with the were-dogs when they had first arrived, but for the most part they could walk two feet in front of someone and it was like they couldn't even be seen.

But that wasn't true on this street, in this pseudo-Vegas, at least not Ares. They had been walking for several blocks sticking to the center of the street as the sidewalks were thick with hookers from hell, which was of course appropriate considering where they were. At first glance these women all looked like the prototypical Vegas streetwalker – thigh-high black leather 'fuck me' boots with broken heels, short fur coats that weren't quite long enough to fully cover their ass, and heavily painted faces that could be anywhere from fifteen to eighty. But the resemblance to hookers stopped there for whenever they could entice a man to approach within reach, which seemed to happen with remarkable frequency, their beautiful faces abruptly morphed into something from a Gigerian nightmare with an incredible triple-row of fangs like a cross between a shark and a vampire. Quickly they would rip out the throats of their victims with gouts of blood spraying everywhere. And many times their enthusiasm was such that their victims' heads would be completely severed to go bouncing out into the street.

Unfortunately for Ares, it was these hookers who abruptly noticed him. As soon as they did, they ignored their normal victims completely. And also as soon as they did they made their intentions obvious by immediately changing from their normal whorish appearance to their horrorish appearance. Within seconds the nearest two hundred of them were all converging on Ares with the intent to rip out his throat, his heart, his entire body in the way they had witness the two women skin the man alive earlier.

"We need to get out of here," shouted Ares.

Lana glanced at him seeing he already had his wings unfurled and was about to take flight.

"No, wait," she shouted in return. "Our destination is right there." Using her freshly drawn sword she pointed half a block further down the street to the grand entrance to the Caesar's Palace Casino.

Ares glanced at where she was pointing and then lowered his staff until it was pointing in the direction of the five nearest hooker monsters. Then the whole street lit up as a powerful blast of light incinerated them. They quickly blackened and then began to glow orange and white like coals on a barbeque before crumbling into piles of ash. But before they had hardly settled to the ground the next group rushed passed and these fallen ones began to regenerate. Since everyone trapped in Hades was already dead, it was impossible to kill them for long.

As Lana resheathed her sword and took up her bow to help slow the advancing hoard of deadly prostitutes, she was glad Ares hadn't yet taken flight. They had discovered several hours into their journey, when they had been back into a corner by a swarm of flesh-eating locusts, that if you took flight and lifted more than a few feet off of the ground, when you tried to land you found yourself back on the outskirts of the city. And their goal was suddenly so close she could almost taste it and she didn't want to have to do the whole hike over again to get back here.

Lana drew and shot, over and over. Every arrow that hit one of the hookers through the heart caused them to burst into flames like vampires in a movie. Ares continued to blast away with his staff taking them out ten and twenty at a time. Fah roared like the lion she was and used her powerful clawed forepaws to rip them apart and throw the pieces into the next advancing group.

Slowly they worked their way towards their destination. Twenty feet. Fifty feet. Two hundred feet. Finally, they were on the sidewalk right out in front of the casino's entrance. They must have destroyed hundreds of the whores, but for every one they eliminated, three more seemed to spring up to take their place. By now there had to be a thousand of the enraged hookers trying to get at Ares and they were beginning to turn on each other in their madness.

Then with one step backwards, which didn't feel any different than any of the others, they passed through some invisible barrier which the hookers couldn't cross or even see through. Immediately, they all lost interest, as if they had no recollection of Ares, and they wandered off in search of their normal victims.

"I told you, you shouldn't have worn that aftershave," quipped Fah to Ares, as he and Lana slowly lowered their weapons.

As the adrenaline started flushing from her system, Lana looked over at Ares. He stood with sweat gleaming from his arms, legs, and the exposed portions of his torso. At this moment he looked more than ever like the legendary god he was. Throughout their five hundred year adventure, girls had always been throwing themselves at him, although usually not quite this violently. Lana could see how gorgeous he was and on some level understood the reaction women had for him, yet strangely she had never felt quite the same way herself. He was her best friend, her compatriot, but not the one she loved. Deep in her heart she knew there was another. The one she had been waiting for all of these centuries.

"Yeah, Ares, turn it down a notch. I think I am starting to feel the urge to attack you, too," said Lana, jokingly throwing an arm up across her eyes as though it was dangerous to look at him.

Ares merely shook his head with the godly patience he always showed with these two women eternally at the center of his life.

With the dark mood - always present in battle - finally broken, Lana turned to look into the casino. In the same way time and space seemed to be distorted everywhere else in Hades, the interior of this casino, which appeared normal sized on the outside, stretched before them as far as the eye could see. And the space was filled with row after endless row of slot machines. The air was filled with sounds of coins being dropped into slots and the bleep, bleep, bleep of spinning wheels.

However it wasn't until they started walking deeper into the casino that the true hellish qualities of this place became apparent. In front of every single one of the one armed bandits stood one of the damned souls. Well, standing in front of the machines was definitely being overly polite about their true situation. Rooted in front of the machines was more accurate. The lower half of each victim's body was actually a tree trunk with roots extending down through the carpeted floor. And their upper bodies weren't fully human either. No, their right arms had been replaced with rusted mechanical linkages which were permanently attached to the pull-lever on the slot machines. Their left hands were still human, but they might as well have been replaced with mechanical mechanisms, too, since they robotically picked up a coin from the bucket in front of them and dropped it into the slot on the machine in an endless cycle. All the while their unblinking eyes danced from spinning wheel to spinning wheel always expecting them to stop on three cherries, but of course they never did.

As Lana and the others walked down the long, long aisle, she continually heard the bells and whistles of machines paying off big time, yet she never saw a single winner, not even one coin returned. And that really drove home how this truly was the 'City of Lost Dreams'. These people had spent their lives looking for the quick, easy path to riches. Now they were condemned to spend eternity here with the hopes that the next pull of the lever would grant them riches and an escape, only to have their hopes dashed every single time.

The three of them hiked down the central aisle of the casino for what felt like hours. Occasionally they would pause and try to talk to one of the people playing the machines, but it was difficult to get them to look away for more than a few seconds. Even the fact they were a girl in a golden breastplate and helmet, a winged god, and a giant sphinx didn't make any difference. After awhile they simply stopped trying, these people were trapped in a personal hell where Lana and the others simply didn't exist.

Abruptly, without any prior warning, Fah turned and headed to the right between two rows of machines that didn't seem to Lana to be any different than any of the other rows. However they walked less than one hundred feet before coming to a door. When Lana looked back over her shoulder, she discovered the never-ending casino had abruptly shrunk back to a normal size with walls in all directions within a few hundred feet.

Turning back to face the normal looking door, the sensation Lana was getting of the key was greatly heightened. They must be getting close now.

Taking a deep breath, Lana reached out for the door handle having no idea what would be on the other side. And here in Hades almost anything could be on the other side. Pulling the door open, she was almost disappointed to see an ordinary looking corridor.

Leading the way, Lana stepped into the hallway. Ares was right behind her. Fah was bringing up the rear and cursing a blue streak as she squeezed her great bulk through the normal sized door. Fortunately, the corridor itself was a fifteen feet wide by twelve feet high.

The first thing Lana noticed was the lively music coming from somewhere ahead. The second thing was that the wide, tall corridor wasn't designed for Fah's convenience, but for the numerous women scurrying about in costume – Vegas showgirl costume.

Each of the women they saw looked to be at least six feet tall and that didn't even include their large feathered headpieces which extended up at least another three feet. And besides the headpieces none of them were clad in anything but miniscule g-strings.

For a moment Lana just stood there and stared. This area of Hades was a version of Vegas, so it shouldn't have come as a big surprise, but she had been expecting to battle monsters or demons for the key, not this. With a sinking feeling she realized this was going to be one of 'those' types of keys.

Abruptly, the nearest showgirl turned to her and lightly grabbed Lana's upper arm.

"You're late. You need to hurry and get ready," said the woman with a strong lisp.

Lana had turned and looked at the woman's face just as she finished speaking and she quickly understood the cause of the woman's lisp, which reinforced that they were still in Hades – like she was going to forget. The woman had a big fake smile firmly plastered on her face. And 'plastered' was the key word. Her face looked to be frozen in that expression and the voice had issued from deep inside like from a world-class ventriloquist who could talk without moving his lips or face.

Knowing some task was required of her to achieve the key, Lana allowed the showgirl to lead her forward. After passing five open doorways, through which at least thirty more girls could be seen in various states of dress, the girl holding Lana's arm paused before the sixth door. This door happened to be painted bright blue and when Lana looked at it she discovered it was adorned with a large silver star. Directly below the star was a nameplate which read 'Lana Lang' in big bold type.

"You need to hurry. The show starts in five minutes," the girl announced; throwing open the door as she released Lana's arm.

Stepping through the doorway almost in a daze as her body dropped out of combat-mode and tried to prepare for whatever was coming next, Lana quickly scanned the room. It was obviously a dressing room with a vanity table and mirror in one corner. But except for a couple of battered old couches and chairs, the room was otherwise bare.

Lana walked over the vanity and stripped off her helmet. While she was setting it on the tabletop, she could see in the mirror that Ares had followed her into the room and Fah was in the process of squeezing through the door. Fortunately, like a house cat, if Fah could get her large head through an opening, she could get the rest of her body through, too.

"This is already turning out to be an interesting key and we haven't even reached it yet. Sort of reminds me of the one in Istanbul. You remember, the one which lead to Nell," said Ares with an attempt at a lecherous grin. However 'lecherous' truly wasn't in his nature and therefore he couldn't ever quite achieve the right look.

Lana felt a shudder run through her body as she tried really hard not to remember Istanbul.

"Well, it is obvious participating in the show is somehow necessary to achieve this key," Lana quickly said to get thoughts of Istanbul out of her mind.

"I wonder where my costume is?" she asked as she scanned the room for a second time. She half expected one of the large feathered headdresses the other women were wearing to have magically appeared. Going out on stage as a member of a topless chorus line wasn't her first choice in how to spend her time, or second, third, or even one-thousandth, but she had been forced to do more personally disgusting things to achieve some of the previous keys, like the time in Istanbul - Damn, she hadn't wanted to think about Istanbul again.

In the mirror she saw Ares and Fah also scan the room, but when they turned back to her it was Fah who spoke and her eyes were glowing such a bright shade of green, the pale walls of the dressing room almost seemed to take on a green tinge.

"Look in your bag," was the Oracle Fah's simple pronouncement.

Bowing to the inevitable, Lana slid off the rucksack's shoulder straps and dropped the bag to the floor in front of the chair by the mirrored vanity. Before delving into the bag, she removed the arrow quiver and her sword scabbard as well and placed them on the floor next to her bow. Finally, she knelt down beside the bag, threw back the cover and stretched her right hand down inside. Her fingers closed around a small flat box that was remarkably heavy for its size. She quickly drew it out.

Instantly, she recognized it even though it had been one hundred sixty three, no sixty four years since she had put it in the bag. The box had been carved from a single piece of pale green jade and weighed almost two pounds. The cover was illustrated with a carving of two cranes in flight over a small pond with a temple to Buddha just visible along the left edge.

The box had been a gift from Shu Tzing, First Concubine and Imperial Sorceress to Emperor Han Tao-Ling, Fourteenth Overlord of Chin. Lana had no idea what was in the box, as Shu had been very specific about not opening it until the day it was needed. And apparently today was that day.

Lana put her hand on the cover to remove it, but then hesitated a moment wondering what could possibly be in the small case. However her thoughts were interrupted by a loud voice out in the corridor exclaiming, 'Three minutes people. Three minutes!"

Putting her qualms aside, Lana slid off the box's cover and set it on the table. Looking inside all she found was what looked like a rolled up ball of spiderwebs. Lifting it out with her right hand, she set the box on the table next to its cover and then used both hands to carefully unroll the object.

What she found was a tiny glistening g-string made from the rarest golden silk only spun by silkworms dining on the especially cultured sacred mulberry trees of the Forbidden City. Lifted into the light, it shimmered like an iridescent soap bubble. Holding it by the nearly invisible threads which would hold the triangle in place, Lana stared at it in sickened fascination. It was so tiny and sheer it made the g-strings worn by the other showgirls look like a Nun's habit in comparison.

Ares was attempting to make some appropriately lecherous remark when he was overridden by Fah, who was still in Oracle mode.

"There is another item you need still in the bag, Lana."

As Lana carefully lowered the silk g-string, or dingziku as it had been called back in Chin, to the table top, she wondered briefly if this had been Shu's originally intended use for this item. Remembering Shu and her infamous orgies, Lana somehow doubted it. But it was the object which had come to hand when she reached into the bag, so there must be a reason.

Reaching back into the bag, this time Lana grasped something much heavier and bulkier. Hoping it was a more conservative costume to cover up the g-string, she couldn't hide the disappointment in her face when she saw the tops of gold boots appearing above the rim of the bag. However the frown turned into the startled gasp when she pulled them the rest of the way out and discovered they weren't boots at all, but ice skates. Ice skates?

She blankly stared at them for a moment until Fah once more called for her attention.

"Lana?"

Slowly Lana turned and looked directly into the face of the golden haired Sphinx.

"Lana, to access this key you must successfully execute a triple jump."

Lana's mind still felt like it was stuck in a loop. Figure skating? Figure skating was required to reach the key? This had to be the craziest one ever.

Finally, Lana said the first thing that came to mind and she had no idea where the thought even came from. "Lutz, Toe loop, or Salchow?"

Fah looked suddenly startled and then her eyes faded from green almost back to their normal gold. "Actually, I don't think the specific style was specified."

'Two minutes. Two minutes," Announced the loud voice in the corridor.

"Come on," said Ares, all business-like as he stepped up behind Lana and motioned for her to stand. "We need to get you ready."

Lana stood there numbly as Ares unfastened her gold breastplate and dropped it along with her weapons back into the rucksack. Then he stepped back and motioned for her to finish changing.

She felt like she was running on autopilot as she slid off her sandals and then her golden skirt. After dropping them into the bag, she turned towards the vanity table to retrieve the special little g-string. And as she turned, she caught a glimpse of her naked form in the mirror. Once more it was hard to believe she had spent five hundred years in this existence, her body certainly could still pass for sixteen. Then she looked at her short black hair. She normally kept it cropped as it was more convenient when wearing her helmet. But now she wished she had left it long. If she had access to her magic here, she could instantly grow it out. But then if she had access to her magic here, she wouldn't be about to attempt topless figure skating.

After carefully lifting the silken garment from the tabletop so as to not snag or damage the delicate material, she slid it up her muscular legs. At least five hundred years of combat had kept her in good shape.

Ares had picked up the skates and motioned her to sit down. As she lowered her now naked butt onto the cold metal chair, Lana tried to draw forth any memories she had of figure skating. She must know something since the names of those different jump styles had popped into her head, but the only thing she was certain of was that she hadn't been skating in the five hundred years since she had awaken back in Montana. When nothing came to her, she was only left to hope that just like her language skills and her uncanny abilities with weapons she had similar unknown gifts when it came to ice skates.

When Ares finished lacing her skates, Lana cautiously rose to her feet. Even with the blade protectors installed to help maintain the sharpened edges until she got on the ice, walking would be a precarious situation. She took a couple of experimental steps, but then paused when she saw her reflection in the mirror out of the corner of her eye. In the overall gamut of breasts, hers fell at the high, small, firm end of the spectrum. But that still didn't keep them from bouncing around almost obscenely as she moved on the awkward skates. How was she going to get through this?

Then she spied her golden helmet still sitting on the vanity. Quickly she reached over, grabbed it, and settled it back on her head. At once she felt more comfortable. The helmet might not hide any of the important bits, but it helped give her a feeling of anonymity which was better than nothing. Fortunately, she thought the bird of prey motif of the helmet actually might work with the large feather headpieces the other showgirls were wearing.

Lana glanced at Fah and then gave a tilt of her head to silently ask if using the helmet would be within the strictures imposed for accessing the key. When Fah didn't respond she took that as a sign it was acceptable and couldn't stop a small sigh of relief.

"One minute, ladies. Everyone get to your places."

Lana glanced to the door and saw a steady stream of showgirls moving passed and they were all clearly wearing skates, too.

As she started towards the door, Lana took one last look back at Ares.

Smiling, he said. "Good luck and have fun. I have every confidence you will be able to do it and the key will be shortly in your hands."

Then she glanced at Fah, whose eyes had now fully returned to their normal gold.

"Yeah, Lana. Break a leg! No wait, is that what you say to skaters or is it actresses? Oh well, you know what I mean."

Just then Lana stepped wrong and thought she would have twisted her ankle, if not for the support of the tall boots. Damn, Fah, sometimes when the old Mr. Ed personality shown through she could say the stupidest, most inappropriate things. Break a leg, indeed. Lana just hoped the giant Sphinx hadn't just jinxed her.

Stepping out into the corridor, Lana ended up walking along side the last of the showgirls and felt almost intimidated. The girl towered at least eight inches over her. And she had 'D' cup breasts, if not more, yet they didn't jiggle in the slightest as she walked. But then Lana looked up at her face, and realized the poor girl's entire body was plastic and only the deeply recessed eyes seemed completely human. When Lana looked down at how her own body rippled and sway in a much more natural way, she was suddenly not quite so upset with her situation.

It was a walk of no more than sixty feet to reach the backstage area. The portion of the area nearest the curtain was covered with ice so they could sweep majestically through the curtain when it was opened without having to awkwardly enter the ice in full view of the audience. Most of the girls who had reached the backstage area ahead of her had already moved out onto the ice.

As Lana reached the edge of the ice, she reached down and stripped the protective runners off of her blades and tossed them onto the pile which had already accumulated. Then, as she was about to step out onto the ice to see what recollection of skating her body retained, she felt a hand on her arm. After glancing down at the hand's manicured nails, Lana looked up into the face of the woman who had accompanied her on the walk from the dressing rooms.

"You can't go out there like that," said the girl while making a tsk, tsk, tsk sound somewhere behind the unwavering smile.

Damn, thought Lana, expecting to be told to remove her helmet.

Therefore she was completely shocked when the girl reached forward with both hands and started massaging Lana's breasts.

Then as she moved on to the nipples, first rolling them between her thumbs and forefingers before giving them a firm pinch, she said. "We can't have you going out there without your headlights on 'bright'; it's against casino policy."

Lana felt her nipples begin to tingle and harden, not from any sexual arousal, but because the girl's fingers were fucking cold – even worse than the metal chair on her naked butt back in the dressing room.

"There, much better," exclaimed the girl just as the orchestra out front began a loud fanfare.

"Ladies and Gentleman," began the announcer's voice, sounding exactly like Frank Sinatra to Lana and, who knew, maybe he and the Rat Pack were performing an unlimited engagement in the Vegas of Hell. "Caesar's Palace proudly welcomes you to Cleopatra's showroom for this special performance of 'Nudes on Ice'."

Lana glanced at all the other performers in their big headdresses and more modest g-strings. Calling it 'Nudes on Ice' seemed like quite an exaggeration. 'Topless on Ice' would have been more accurate, but of course it didn't have quite the same ring.

However then she looked down at her own attire. The translucent little triangle she wore hid none of her charms and 'Nude on Ice' could definitely apply from certain angles and under certain lighting conditions.

"Please give a warm round of applause," continued Sinatra, "to the girls of Caesar's Palace and in particular to our special guest artist, Miss Lana Lang."

A loud roar of applause filled the theater and then seemed to become even louder in the backstage area as a section of curtain parted to allow the first of the showgirls to glide out onto the stage.

Lana waited as the other girls preceded her. All the while the thought went around and around in her head, 'Could she do this? Could she really do this?' However it was not the whole nudity thing which was causing butterflies to flutter frantically around in her stomach. No, after five hundred years she could count off several dozen times in her life which had been decidedly worst – as at this moment no one was trying to kill or maim her. Rather it was the totally unknown element of skating and, ultimately, the triple jump.

The other skaters were out on the ice for almost a minute before Lana heard the change in tempo of the music which she simply knew was her signal to join the others on stage. Quickly, without letting herself pause to think, Lana kicked off with the right toe picks she had been using to maintain her balance. As her legs began to pump and automatically used the edges of the blades to add power to her motion, she began to relax just a little as it became obvious her body did know how to skate.

Passing through the curtain and out onto the stage, Lana felt momentarily blinded. The stage was brilliantly lit compared to the backstage area. As her eyes began to adjust, she saw the other girls were moving in a slow pattern around the perimeter of the ice to leave the central portion open for her use.

To give her body time to adjust to being on skates once again, Lana did a slow loop around the perimeter of the ice just inside of where the other girls were moving only in the opposite direction. First she passed along the audience side of the rink. The seating area felt enormous, but it was only a feeling as the area was completely dark. Were there even people out there, she wondered. What category of sin would land one in the audience of a show in the Hades version of Vegas? But regardless of who or what was out in the audience, Lana affixed a big smile on her face attempting to stay in character.

Then, all too quickly, she reached the far end of the stage and was forced to turn and head back the other way. As she went she tried to get the dimension of the rink clear in her head. And when she realized it was roughly forty-five feet wide by thirty feet deep, she wondered if it was enough. Could she get going fast enough in such a confined space to successfully execute and land a triple jump?

As she proceeded down the back side of the ice, she tried a bunny hop. No fancy spins or rotations, it was just a simple forward vault, but it did get both of her feet well off the ice at the same time. When she landed it successfully, it really boosted her morale and she immediately pivoted around until she was gliding along backwards. After racing a quarter turn around the rink, she went for a half rotation Mazurka jump with a little scissors action of her legs thrown in at the peak. When she landed that successfully, she broke into a little jig – dancing from toe picks to edges. The orchestra smoothly followed the transition and segued from old 1940's Broadway show tunes to Reggae with a pounding beat.

After several additional confidence building single rotation jumps and spins, Lana stepped up to a double toe loop. Starting in the middle of the back side of the rink, she raced backwards to the left side of the stage and made a wide fast turn until she was headed back along the front edge nearest the audience. Picking her spot, she flexed her legs, swung her right foot around her body in a counterclockwise direction and then used her left toe pick to launch herself into the air. As soon as her feet left the ground she quickly pulled her arms in tight to her chest to speed up the spin. Two quick rotations and she was back on the ground with her left foot stretched out behind her, her back arched, and her arms flung wide to her sides to maintain her balance.

She felt a big grin spread across her face and she quickly turned the maneuver into a long slow spiral with her body and left leg stretched out parallel to the ground while she caught her breath. She held the position for half a turn around the ice before reverting back to some forward and backward dance steps for the rest of the loop around rink.

Her body was feeling good and pleasantly warmed up, so Lana decided it was time to go for it. And again the orchestra seemed to anticipate her plans. The reggae slowly petered out over the course of the next lap and was replaced by a drum-roll.

Then just as she switched to a backwards glide to build up speed, her concentration was almost broken when Sinatra's greatly amplified voice whispered, 'Quiet please, as Miss Lang attempts a triple Salchow.'

Once again Lana raced down the back side of the rink, did a wide turn at the left end of the stage and came back along the forward edge. When she reached her mark, the third topless showgirl with the distinctive blue feathers, she once more launched herself into the air. Once revolution. Two revolutions. Two-and-a-half revolutions and that was when she knew she was in trouble. She was running out of altitude and she wasn't going make it all the way around. She tried to will her body to stay in the air, but it wasn't enough. Her skate touched the ice when she was still twenty degrees short of completing the third and final revolution. And twenty degrees short meant the blade of her skate was at the completely wrong angle. As soon as it touched it pitched her forward and she was tumbling across the ice.

When she slid to a stop she found herself sitting on her butt, almost tangled in the legs of one of the tall showgirls. As a shudder of disappointment echoed through the audience, Lana suddenly found the whole situation hilarious. Here she was in Hell, sitting with her butt on the icy cold, well, ice. And for a moment she couldn't get the old saying 'When Hell freezes Over' out of her mind. She could even see the banner headline in the paper 'Girl in Hell dies from frostbite to the Ass'.

- + - + - + - + - +

Once more Lana found herself lying on the cold ice, this time flat on her stomach. And there was no longer anything hilarious about the situation. No, she was trying hard to fight back the tears.

This was the seventh time she had fallen attempting the triple jump. And her mind couldn't stop circling back to the scene they had witnessed during their trek through the city of Dis where the two women had skinned the man alive over and over. Or the people rooted to the floor in front of the slot machines. Was this to be her own permanent place in Hell? To be forever trapped on this stage endlessly attempting the jump and destined always to fail?

Lana was just beginning to press herself up from the floor to make the another attempt when a deep, strong male's voice said from right next to her, "Let me give you a hand."

She turned her head and through the corner of the eye slit in her helmet she saw Ares standing there with his right hand stretched down towards her. He was clad similar to her with only skates and a g-string, which although more modest than hers did little to hide his package. His tall wings protruded above his shoulders, but were otherwise folded along his back.

Gratefully, Lana accepted his hand and allowed him to lift her back to her feet.

"Thanks," she whispered.

Ares smiled. Then slowly reaching forward, he pulled off her helmet and tossed it far out into the audience.

"Are you ready to do this?" he asked.

Lana reached up and wiped the tears from her eyes before nodding.

Ares took her left hand in his and lightly rested his right hand on her waist. As he started them gliding forward, he called out in a booming voice, "Music, please, Maestro!"

The large showroom immediately filled with strains from 'Swan Lake' as Ares led her on a circuit around the stage. And without conscious thought on her part, Lana quickly felt her legs and body begin to move in synch with her partner's.

Around and around the stage they circled, smoothly transitioning from one ice dancing move to the next. Slowly they built to more and more complicated maneuvers until at one point Ares tossed her up into the air and after doing two spins with her body parallel to the floor, she landed flat on Ares' up stretched right hand. She found herself suspended eight feet above the ice as Ares glided effortlessly along and for an instance it felt like she was flying. And with that feeling came the sudden, calm confidence she could do it. She could make the triple jump.

After another half loop around the stage, Ares lowered her back to the ice and he seemed to understand with a single glance at her eyes that she was now ready. Immediately he turned them around so they were skating backwards while quickly building up speed.

When they reached the right spot, Ares reached around behind Lana's back grasped her right arm and then transferred some of his own momentum to her by spinning her around just as she started her jump.

Lana rose up into the air, her arms tight against her sides to get the maximum possible speed out of this spin. Once. Twice. Three times the darkened audience area flashed before her eyes. Then she landed gracefully on her right foot with her left foot extended behind her for balance.

She had done it! But then feeling exhilarated and not completely sure if the assist from Ares had violated whatever rules limited access to the key, she lowered her left leg and thrust off into a second jump. Once again the jump was perfect and she could feel the broad grin spreading across her face. There could be no question: this second jump fulfilled the requirement.

Ares raced up to her and swept her into his arms. For at least twenty seconds their bodies spun and spun as Lana wrapped her arms tightly around her oldest and dearest friend. If not for his support and assistance, she might never have succeeded.

As they spun to a stop, the showroom was abruptly overtaken by what felt like an earthquake. The showgirls poised around the perimeter of the stage all were thrown from their feet and landed hard on the ice. Lana was sure the same thing would have happened to her except Ares immediately started beating his powerful wings and supported most of her weight so her skates were only lightly touching the madly vibrating ice.

Suddenly, with loud cracking and popping sounds, large cracks raced across the surface of the ice quickly shattering it into countless small pieces. As the pieces directly below their feet fell away, Ares increased the already rapid beating of his wings until they lifted completely clear of the ground. Looking down, Lana saw a massive flight of stairs appearing directly below them and disappearing into the depths.

In a moment the extent of the new structure was readily visible. Ares twisted his wings slightly and the hover changed into a slow forward motion until he was able to land right at the entrance to the new stairway. Lana felt a powerful shiver run through her body, although whether it was from the sudden response to her successful triple jump or merely a physical reaction to the powerful cold wind created by Ares' wings blowing across her sweat-soaked body, Lana didn't know.

"Congratulations, Lana. You did it," came a loud exclamation in Fah's voice. When Lana looked up, she saw the giant Sphinx standing just in front of the large curtain separating the backstage area. And strapped to the Lion's back were her rucksack and Ares' staff.

"You most certainly did," concurred Ares, as he gave her one more brief hug and then spun her around so she was facing the stairs.

The staircase was massive. Somehow, in the way of things here in Hades, the forty-five foot wide ice rink now enclosed a staircase that was itself at least thirty feet wide. Each shallow step leading down had a four foot tread and was flanked on each end by a twelve foot tall statue. These statues were cloaked figures whose faces were completely obscured by low slung hoods like the iconic Grim Reaper. Only instead of the scythe, each statue had a broadsword held point down in front of them.

And before the staircase disappeared completely into the depths, it was surmounted by a carved lintel. Lana half expected it to say something like 'Abandon all hope, ye who enter here', but it didn't. It said simply, 'Supreme leader, enter Walhalla.'

Who or what were they going to find down there, wondered Lana. Although from the message over the entrance it seemed more likely to be a 'who'.

"Well, are we ready to find out what this key is?" asked Fah as she trotted up.

Lana nodded and went to take a first step towards the staircase when she discovered she was still wearing the skates. "Yeah, just as soon as I get rid of these damned skates."

Ares quickly knelt down and undid her laces. Lana kept one hand resting lightly on his shoulder until he removed the second skate.

Ares then proceeded to remove his own skates before finally looking back up at her face. "Shall I check your bag for some sandals or clothing?"

The smooth, dark granite felt warm against the bottom of her feet and something inside told her this wasn't the right time to pause for things like clothes or shoes.

"Not now," she responded and then offered her hand to help Ares back to his feet.

Continuing to hold Ares' left hand in her right, Lana started down the stairs. Glancing back over her shoulder, she called, "Coming, Fah?"

The trio set off down the staircase and quickly left the casino and the rest of 'Vegas in Hades' behind. The honor guard of cloaked statues continued to line each step. As they moved underground, the descending passage was lit by torches set in both walls after every fifth statue. Whether it had been planned or not, the flickering torchlight resulted in a multitude of shadows. And in Lana's peripheral vision, it caused the statues to appear to move. 'All we need now,' thought Lana, "is some eerie music to complete the effect.'

The stairway continued down and down. They had been descending for at least twenty minutes before they finally spotted a more intense glow ahead of them. As they got closer, they could see the stairway opened into a wide chamber with floor and walls completely covered in gold leaf.

The room when they reached it was completely filled, except for a central path. A pair of chariots were lined up against the left wall. By the right wall was stack after stack of weapons – swords, lances, pikes, shields, arrows and bows, and even a small catapult. In between were row upon row of large sealed jars which at a glance were obviously filled with wine.

The contents of this room along with the guardian statues lining the stairs and the message carved into the lintel led Lana to only one obvious conclusion. This complex was some kind of tomb. But since they were in Hades where all of the dead were animated in one fashion or another, who was in this tomb? And why?

Looking forward along the central path through all of this bric-a-brac for some noble's afterlife, Lana could see there was another chamber beyond. With a firm step, she proceeded in that direction.

As they stepped into the next chamber they could feel its grand scale, yet not really see it. Oh, they could see the high curved dome of the ceiling far above them and the walls to the left and the right with such gentle curves they must enclose a massive space. But their view straight ahead to the central portion of the chamber was blocked by a large intricately carved black monolith. The twenty-five wide by sixty foot tall stone appeared to have been carved from a single block, however it must have also been hollowed out from the inside as well for all of the lettering on its surface seemed to be lit by some internal golden light.

And inscribed in giant letters were the words: _'HERE LIES SUPREME LEADER ALEXANDER LUTHOR, SAVIOR OF THE RACE OF MAN, CHAMPION OF ROME, PRESIDENT OF THE AMERICAS, DREAD-LORD OF THE HUNS, SCOURGE OF THE ARRYANS, LIGHT OF THE KNIGHTS OF THE HOLY LANCE, SLAYER OF THE DEMONS BELPHEGOR AND NELCHAEL, TRUE FRIEND AND TEACHER OF THE WAY. OFFER OBEISANCE AND TRIBUTE OR ENTER HIS HOLY AND MAGNIFICENT PRESENCES AT YOUR PERIL.'_

"Quite a mouthful," stated Fah in an attempt to lighten the oppressive mood caused by the monolith as well as the slow steady pealing of some massive gong, which hadn't even been noticeable in the previous antechamber, but now grated down to the very bones.

But Lana barely heard her old friend; her gaze was frozen on two words – Alexander Luthor. Image after image came unbidden to her mind, as a rush of lost memories were restored.

After several minutes of staring blankly at the name, Ares reached over and gently shook her shoulder. "Lana, are you all right?"

Lana shook her head to clear it and then looked over at her friend. For just a moment his appearance seemed to waver into something else.

"I am fine," she answered as she turned to make her way around the monolith. "Maybe, finally, more than fine."

The three of them, who had traveled unbelievably far and faced untold dangers to reach this point, rounded the corner of the giant stone block and at last saw that which they had come to find. The chamber was circular, at least five hundred feet in diameter. In the exact center on a raised circular platform, stood a white alabaster funerary bier. Stretched out on top of the bier was the figure of a man in repose, but from their great distance and under the brilliant spotlight shining directly down on the figure from above, the three couldn't tell if the body was real or merely a statue.

Quickly, Lana's pace picked up until she was almost moving at a run; her footfalls and suddenly ragged breath going unnoticed under the ever louder pealing of the gong. Finally, as she reached the twenty-two steps leading up to the platform, she paused. She could now see the body on top of the bier was real, but it showed the pallor of death. Why did this time have to be different? The six keys among the previous ninety-nine which had restored someone from her past had always delivered them alive. Why did this time have to be different?

When Ares and Fah caught up with her, Ares again put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her forward as no words could possibly be heard this close to the source of the ringing bell. It took a moment for Lana's legs to begin to move and then she would have stumbled several times during the climb if not for Ares' support.

Then when they reached the top and stepped onto the platform, it was as though they had stepped through an invisible wall or barrier for the pealing of the bell dropped away and the silence was total.

Slowly Lana advanced to the center of the forty foot diameter platform and approached the bier. Unfortunately the bier towered almost six feet from the floor and its top was completely obscured from her view. She felt Ares step up behind her and grasp her waist. Effortlessly he lifted her up and back until her naked butt came to rest on his left shoulder. But for the moment her and Ares near nakedness was completely forgotten.

Stretched out on the stone catafalque before her was her beloved from her old life – Alexander Luthor. Her mind was suddenly filled with memories of Roman baths and massages, of counting pieces of glass in stained glass windows and cuddling, of baby blue '65 Mustangs and blown kisses.

He was dressed as a Roman Centurion with a plumed helmet under his left arm and his right hand resting on his sword hilt. But all Lana saw was the pearlescent white texture of his face and hands. Slowly, hesitantly, she reached out and touched his right hand. His skin was cold as ice and his hand was as immobile as if it was actually carved from a block of ice.

Lana felt her eyes beginning to fill with tears and her vision began to blur.

"What do I do know?" she softly whispered. How could she possibly go on having finally found the one she had awaited all of these centuries only to discover him dead?

Fah came up to stand next to Lana and for once with Lana sitting on Ares shoulder they were almost eye-to-eye. "Lana, perhaps you hath but bestow a kiss on yon gentle man to restore him to life."

Lana tore her eyes away from her beloved Alexander and looked at Fah. Even through her tear-filled eyes she could see the Sphinx's eyes were their normal gold and not the special 'oracle' green. But even if this suggestion came from the old Mr. Ed rather than the powers on high, she had no better idea on how to proceed.

Lana nodded and then reached down with her right hand and lightly squeezed Ares' right shoulder. He understood the signal and carefully lifted her up until she was kneeling on the edge of the bier near Alexander's waist. Briefly resting her hands on his bronze breastplate, Lana worked her way forward until she was stretched out full-length on top of him with her face suspended mere inches above his.

For a moment Lana paused to run her fingers through his shoulder length auburn hair as she studied his face. His eyes were closed and his lips were the same pallid white as his skin. Not a crease marred his face and he looked so peaceful. After a moment Lana pulled her fingers from his thick hair and ran them lightly over the line of his jaw and across the bridge of his nose. Finally, after circling the tip of her index finger around his ice cold lips several times, she pulled her finger away and leaned further forward.

Lightly at first she let her lips caress his. Then more firmly she took his lower lip between hers and sucked gently. After a few seconds she moved to his upper lip. When she moved her kisses back to his lower lip she thought he felt a little less cold. Or was her mouth merely becoming numb?

She pulled back briefly and stared down at Alexander's mouth. The lips definitely were showing a faint hint of pink she decided, and with a torch of heat flashing all the way to the core of her soul, she threw herself back into the kiss.

As she kissed and kissed, she could see out of the corner of her eye how the color was steadily spreading from his mouth and on across his face. Just as the color seemed to reach the skin around his closed eyes, she felt his mouth move and begin to return her fervent kisses.

This kiss seemed to go on for several minutes until Lana felt his hand, his warm living hand, reach up and begin to caress her bare back. She opened her eyes and found his dark blue eyes staring back at her.

Lana lifted her head until a fraction of an inch separated their mouths.

"Lana, I have missed you for so long," he whispered quietly.

"Oh, Alexander, you won't believe what I have gone through to find you," she answered before once more lowering her mouth to his.

This new kiss went on for several more minutes until the iciness Lana had been feeling from his body had been replaced with warmth and then heat. And his heat was echoed by a growing heat in her body. A special kind of heat she hadn't felt before during the entire five hundred years she had spent in this domain. And she knew it was more than sexual lust; it was love.

They were both panting for breath by the time the kiss broke. As Lana lifted herself up on her forearms, Alexander also levered himself up on one elbow. After one long lingering look at her naked breasts, he proceeded to scan the chamber as though he had never seen it before. And if he had been truly dead when he had been brought here, thought Lana, then perhaps he was seeing it for the first time.

With a gentle caress of her upper arm, Alexander twisted her body around until he was able to fully sit up. Then gathering her up in his arms, he half slid, half jumped from the bier down onto the platform.

After lowering Lana to her feet, Alexander straightened and walked over to where Ares and Fah stood. Immediately, he pulled Ares into a tight bear hug.

Lana felt weak in the knees and put a hand out to the cold white stone of the bier to support herself. As she looked at where her oldest, most important friends stood together her vision again wavered, like had momentarily happened back by the monolith. Only this time it was much stronger.

And suddenly the appearance of all her friends changed. Alexander was no longer sporting shoulder-length unruly locks and wearing the Roman armor, but instead had hair so short he almost looked bald and he was wearing black pants, a black jacket, and a white shirt open at the collar. Ares' wings were gone, his tiny thong had been replaced by jeans, a blue tee shirt, and a short red jacket, and he too was sporting much shorter hair. However Fah was the most changed of all with the sphinx body and wings replaced by the body of a young woman. Her face was much the same, but shrunk to normal human proportions.

Their new appearances lingered for several seconds and Lana was wondering at the meaning when abruptly everything about her vanished. For a split second she was in some kind of all encompassing gray limbo and then she was somewhere else. The place was unlike anywhere she had been in the past five hundred years, yet she knew it. She was in the backseat of a limo driving down a street in a large city.

However as abruptly as the visions arrived, they were gone and Lana found herself back in the giant mausoleum. And Alexander, Ares, and Fah had returned to their familiar appearances.

When Alexander called her name, she moved over to join the other three. As she walked she tried to understand the meaning of the visions. It must have something to do with her former life, she decided. But when Alexander once more pulled her into his arms and her breasts were smashed tight against his bronze breastplate, thoughts about the visions receded to the back of her mind. And when his hands moved to cup her naked butt and her mouth once again found his, her last coherent thought was that once again the rucksack had been right – today was the perfect day to wear Shu's dingziku.

- + - + - + - + - +

Sliviuh jerked erect from where she had been slouched in the backseat of the limo. Her heart was pounding so hard it took the 'bot system several seconds to get it back under control.

She knew there had been a risk in returning a selected few of Lana's memories of Lex, but she had hoped it would prove a major distraction to the girl in her quest to escape the subtle prison Sliviuh had trapped her in. However she had never expected Lana might break through without even trying. But for almost a half second Lana had been back in control of her body. Now she was once again in the virtual world and she did seem fully occupied, but Sliviuh suddenly knew her time in control of this body might be even shorter than she had earlier calculated. There was no time to waste. She needed to get back to Smallville immediately and see to acquiring another body.

Sliviuh leaned over and pressed the limo's intercom button.

"Yes, Miss?" came Wayne's prompt and courteous reply.

"Ahh, Wayne, there has been a change in plans. Please take me straight to La Guardia, the business jet terminal."

After a five second pause, during which Sliviuh thought she might have to move up front and take control of his mind, he responded. "Very good, we should be there in twenty-five minutes."

Sliviuh leaned back, thankful she wouldn't have to waste time at the moment dealing with the driver. Now she turned her attention on how best to proceed. She had selected La Guardia even though Kennedy would have been closer because Chloe had one of her emergency stashes of funds at La Guardia. Her first thought had been to charter a jet for the trip to Kansas, but then she realized she didn't have any I.D. for this body, which also complicated simply flying commercial in this post 9/11 era. Oh, she could use her abilities to commandeer a crew and get a jet that way or just steal a jet and fly herself. But using either of those methods was unlikely to allow her to arrive at her destination unnoticed.

No, with the limited time at her disposal it looked like the smallest risk was to once again use Charles at Belmont Towers. He could easily arrange to have a jet waiting on her arrival. It would have to be charged against the Denise Webber persona, but it couldn't be helped. Hopefully, word wouldn't reach Chloe or at least exceed her threshold of interest in the next couple of days.

As she tried to predict Chloe's actions, she wished she had better access to Chloe's memories. Via Laura, she had all of Chloe's memories up to the events in the Roman arena, but not much after that. Oh, Laura had shared Chloe's mind for almost forty-eight hours from the return via the time machine to the Metropolis U. campus until Chloe transferred Laura to Lana's 'bot system the following Sunday night. But during that time Laura had been in a partitioned-off section of Chloe's own 'bot system and had had very little access to what Chloe had been doing during the preceding two thousand years. And certainly since Laura had been transferred to Lana's system, she hadn't had any access to Chloe. So she had no idea if her actions would attract Chloe's notice before the events in the Kent Family storm cellar. But since Chloe wouldn't even be aware of this time loop for another two days, there was no reason she would suspect Sliviuh was behind any activity from the Denise Webber financial accounts.

Therefore it took less than two seconds from the time Sliviuh's finger released the intercom button before she had run the probabilities on every visible path forward and concluded the lowest risk solution for fast transportation back to Smallville was through Charles. If anyone else had been present in the back of the limo, her hand would have appeared to have smoothly gone from the intercom button straight to her cell.

"Hello, Charles," she began with her sweetest, most syrupy Chloe voice. "I am afraid I have another small favor. . ."

- + - + - + - + - +

Clark collapsed out of the portal device onto the hard pavement of the alley.

As he laid there immobilized by his spasming limbs, he was certain every time he passed through one of the meteor rock powered doorways that his reaction was more severe. But as his body slowly returned to normal, he decided it was just his imagination and the cumulative remembrances by his mind and body of previous exposures.

Thirty seconds after the doorway from 1936 closed behind him, Clark was able to push himself into a sitting position and could finally feel enough interest in his surroundings to look around.

He was definitely in some major city and from the faint hint of salt air his powerful sense of smell was picking up, this was definitely not Metropolis. Hopefully, he was right where he was supposed to be – New York, and right when he was supposed to be – two days before the events in the storm cellar.

For a moment, after remembering all of the trials and hardships he had gone through to get here, he was seriously tempted to just use his cell phone to call Chloe and warn her not to go down in his storm cellar. However, as he in his heart knew he would do, he rejected that option almost immediately.

Scanning the alleyway where he found himself, he was almost half surprised Sliviuh hadn't attacked him during his moment of weakness upon exiting the Portal. She would certainly know its effect on him from Lana's and Whitney's memories. However he still wasn't certain how the portal system functioned under these circumstances where two different doorways were opened to the same destination time and place. They obviously hadn't both opened at once for he was certain even in his incapacitated state he would have noticed her arrival. So either she had already come and gone or she hadn't arrived yet.

Just as his legs finally felt strong enough to support his weight, he spotted the red of what looked like blood on several of the items of trash scattered around a nearby dumpster. Climbing to his wobbly feet, he started slowly walking towards the dumpster. By the time he was half way there, his body was feeling a lot better and Clark picked up the pace to a jog.

When he reached the dumpster, he carefully picked up the most blood-soaked item. Unfolding it, he recognized it as part of a German sailor's uniform. Sliviuh had definitely beaten him here; and from the tackiness of the blood, Clark guessed she didn't have more than a thirty minute head start.

He was just about to stand back up when he noticed blood smeared on the side of the dumpster. Some sections were faint and others smeared, but he quickly realized it was a message. Taking a step back to be able to take in the whole message, he made out the words:

" _BE AFRAID, CLARK. BE VERY AFRAID! _"

On seeing the personalized message, he couldn't stop himself from glancing around the alley; as though Sliviuh might jump out and attack him at this very moment. With all of his incredible abilities, it would have been crazy for her to try anything now. Oh, she might have had some momentary success if she had tried something as he had helplessly fallen out of the Portal, but not now.

Of course, he needed to be careful to always remember that Sliviuh in Lana's 'bot enhanced body had some incredible gifts, too. And as he stood there still staring at the words on the side of the dumpster, what Marion had told him about Lana's fight at the chateau with the two men wearing the Samson braids came rushing back to him. Apparently, Lana had defeated one of the men and was well on her way to defeating the second when the fight had been called by Biberach's holding Marion hostage with a gun to her head. Clark remembered all the trouble he had had defeating his own two opponents equipped with similar braids. Lana didn't have superhuman strength like her opponents, yet she still had been winning. Marion said Lana had won by utilizing fighting techniques she had never seen before, which was saying a lot, given Marion's extensive travels with Indy and before him her father.

Clark remembered Chloe telling him about her 'bots abilities to predict her opponent's moves and the advantages that gave her. He also knew she had thousands and thousands of years of experience honing her skills. He still was confident in a 'stand-up fight' he could beat her just like he had beaten the men with the braids. But beyond flawless fighting skills, who knew what other tricks she might have up her sleeve after spending thousands of years with the world's most powerful computer incorporated right into her body?

And he was not without weaknesses, he reminded himself. He had told Chloe about his reaction to meteor rocks on their first full day back in ancient Rome, well before the copy of Chloe's memories had been downloaded into Lana's 'bot system. Assuming Sliviuh had access to everything stored in Lana's 'bot system, she would know about meteor rocks, too. He was probably safe from that threat for the moment, but if Sliviuh went to Smallville, there were literally fields full of the rocks. If she took that approach, there was no question she had the potential to defeat him. Hell, several meteor freaks had nearly done him in through inadvertent use of meteor rock materials and they didn't have the smallest fraction of Sliviuh's experience.

All the more reason to hurry up and finish the task of restoring Chloe, he thought. Chloe would hopefully have the information necessary to defeat Sliviuh and return control of her body back to Lana.

After another quick scan of the alley for any overlooked clues, Clark was ready to head off in search of Doctor Virgil Swann. He knew Swann lived above the New York Planetarium and he also knew the planetarium was located on the edge of Central Park as part of the American Museum of Natural History. He had no idea where in New York he was, assuming he was even in New York, but he knew Central Park was very distinctive from the air. So the simplest solution was to fly up until he was high enough to get a panoramic view of New York. He was just about to take off when he hesitated.

Sliviuh knew about a lot of his abilities, but maybe not his flying. He hadn't discovered his ability to fly until after the last time he had seen Lana in Marion's hotel room. And even after he had figured out the whole flying thing, he had tried to keep it under wraps by using the Vulcan transporter cover story. Unfortunately, he knew from Marion and Indy that Lana, or rather Sliviuh had touched Whitney right near the end on the battleship. So he had to assume Sliviuh knew everything Whitney knew. He had never directly let on to Whitney, but Whitney was no fool and would have suspected there was something Clark was hiding with the Vulcan transporter story. And even if Whitney hadn't come to the specific conclusion that Clark could fly, Clark had to assume Sliviuh would. Damn.

Still, just because Sliviuh could reach the right conclusion from the available data didn't mean she had actually put two and two together and come up with five. So in case she had the alley under observation, Clark decided he didn't want to give her any additional food for thought. Therefore since he was one hundred percent certain she already knew about his super-speed running, he decided to leave the alley at a run and then transition to flying after zig-zagging down a couple of streets.

Clark shifted deep into speed mode before moving from the spot by the dumpster. Then moving at what felt like a modest walking pace, he headed for the mouth of the alley while using his x-ray vision to scan for any observers. He didn't spot anyone as he moved out onto the street filled with frozen-in-place cars and pedestrians.

On the street Clark turned left and then one block down turned right. He did this several more times without seeing any landmarks he recognized. But then since he had never been to New York before, he could probably count all the landmarks he knew on the fingers of one hand, or at most the fingers on two hands.

Finally, Clark decided he had covered his trail well enough and launched himself into the air while still deep in speed-mode. Quickly he climbed clear of the five-to-seven story tall buildings line this particular stretch of this particular street. And almost at once he could see masses of tall skyscrapers in several groups in different directions in front of him.

He shot straight up until he was level with the top of the tallest skyscraper he could see. He probably could have found Central Park from this altitude, but decided he could spare a few seconds for a truly panoramic view. Continuing to climb, he soon saw the sky directly above turning from bright to dark blue and the curve of the horizon became clearly visible. Slowing to a hover, Clark knew he was at about the same eighty thousand foot height where Var had parked his ship over Berlin earlier in the day when they had been at the Opening Ceremonies.

Turning his gaze back down, it was now easy to make out the outline of Manhattan and towards the north end of the island the large green rectangle of Central Park. Gazing further south, he could make out several smaller islands in the bay which eventually let out into the Atlantic. From this altitude he couldn't easily pick out the one where the Statue of Liberty stood, but with his ultimate goal firmly in place in his mind, he decided on a short detour.

With the thought barely formed in his head, he was already zooming back down with his course angled south towards the open water just passed the tip of the Manhattan. And as he passed the tip, it was impossible to notice the large gaping sore where the World Trade Center Towers had once stood. As the television footage of the jets colliding with the towers played in his memory, he couldn't help but think about his recent encounter with the great German battleship. If he could lift its massive bulk a mile in the air, a passenger jet wouldn't even be a challenge. For a moment he fantasized about how different things could have been if he had discovered his ability to fly eight months earlier. He could have easily diverted the tragedy and saved thousands of lives. But then he was forced to shake his head. Yeah, if he had heard about it in time he might have been able to have made a difference. But he had been in school that day and it was almost all over before word had filter down to the classrooms. If he was going to use his great gifts in times like that in the future, he would have to be better positioned to get breaking news more quickly than sitting on a farm in Smallville.

As he passed out over open water, he forced his attention from 'might have beens' to the present. Looking forward, he quickly spotted the Statue standing proudly on an island just slightly to the right of his present course. Turning in that direction, he was soon zooming up on the towering woman in the flowing gown standing on top of a tall pedestal. Slowing his apparent motion, yet still deep in speed-mode to not be seen, he hovered forty feet in front of the statue's giant face. It was amazingly beautiful, he thought, as he studied the severe expression that didn't even hint at a smile. Then looking further up, he spotted people in windows lining the lower edge of her crown. What would they think if he dropped out of speed-mode and just hovered in clear sight? It was momentarily tempting to show off his powers, but then he remembered this wasn't ancient Rome or even Nazi Germany. If someone got his photo, it wouldn't be that difficult to trace it back to him and his life in Smallville. A shudder ran through him has he pictured what his life and his parents' lives would be like if a picture of him flying was splashed across the front page of the New York Times, and probably every other newspaper in the country.

His mind flashed back to his thoughts only moments earlier about using his gifts in situations like 9-11. How would he ever be able to help in public situations like that and still maintain his personal life? It would definitely require careful thought. And as had often happened during the passed few weeks, he wondered what ideas Chloe would have on the subject. However thoughts of Chloe reminded him of why he was here in New York and it wasn't to sightsee. No, he was here to see what Doctor Swann knew and how he could help Clark in his quest to save Chloe and Lex.

Of course, the quest now needed to be expanded to include stopping Sliviuh. For after seeing how easily she had gained control of the battleship, the threat she posed to the world made al-Qaeda pale in comparison. Oh, with months of careful planning, strong financial backing, and the active participation of dozens of people, the terrorists had managed to gain control of four aircraft and fly three of them into their intended targets. But Sliviuh with no resources and no advance planning had subverted several thousand men and gained control of the battleship in less than twelve hours. If she had months at her disposal, she could probably gain control of anything she desired, for who would be afraid of a petite sixteen-year-old girl? And if she had in the distant long-forgotten past controlled the whole world for centuries, there didn't seem to be any reason she couldn't do it again. Would he have to reveal his gift to the world to stop her, Clark wondered.

Deciding he had wasted enough time sightseeing, even if less than a second had passed in 'real time', Clark turned way from the mighty statue and sped back towards Manhattan. As he flew north he gradually increased his height until he was flying about a thousand feet above the tallest buildings. And this time as he passed the World Trade Center site, he didn't spare it a glance, but kept his eyes and his thoughts directed forward.

In moments he passed over the southern edge of the Park and he descended back down to about five hundred feet and reduced his forward velocity as he scanned the buildings along the Park's edges. About half way up the Park he discovered two structures, one on the eastern side and one on the western side that simply felt like museums. Randomly selecting the eastern one first, Clark swooped down and did a low circle of the structure until along the street side he saw 'Metropolitan Museum of Art' carved above the main entrance in big letters. Guessing the American Museum of Natural History was the other one he turned and flew back across the width of the park, along the way crossing over a string of mostly empty baseball diamonds. He wondered why on this beautiful day there weren't a bunch of kids playing ball. But then he remembered that it had been a Saturday when he had departed from Smallville for Nazi Germany so it would be a Thursday now if the time machine had returned him two days earlier. Doubtlessly most kids would be in school at the moment.

Reaching the western edge of the Park, Clark took a swing around the sprawling target structure with its architectural style that looked like it belonged in the old Germany he had just seen rather than contemporary New York. Easily he found several signs that verify it was indeed the correct museum. Seeking an out of the way place to revert to normal-mode unnoticed, Clark returned to Central Park and found a sheltered spot to land and dropped out of speed-mode less than a block from museum's main entrance.

The first thing he noticed on returning to normal-mode was the heat. He must have still been in a daze from the passage through the time machine to not have noticed it back in the alley. Here, even under the shelter of the trees it felt hot and humid. After pulling his 'special' phone from the inside pocket of his blue Olympic Blazer, he stripped off the jacket and slung over his left arm. Then after walking thirty feet he emerged from the trees onto a gently curved path which prevented a clear view of the nearby street and helped create the illusion you were far from the bustling city. About twenty feet down the path, Clark saw an empty park bench. He moved to it, sat down, and draped his jacket across one knee before finally lifting his phone.

For a moment he paused to wonder about this mysterious Doctor Swann. He knew very little about him other than he had made his fortune years earlier when his designs and patents had formed the foundation for the modern satellite communication networks. Chloe said he had been helping her decipher signals that had arrived from outer space the same day Clark's spaceship had landed in Smallville thirteen years earlier. Doctor Swann and Chloe must have had some success, thought Clark, or else Chloe wouldn't have suggested both back in the storm cellar and again in her message from the future that Clark should talk to the man.

Realizing it was pointless to sit there and speculate when all the answers might be just a simple phone call away; Clark finally clicked the cell phone on and lifted it to his ear.

"Call Doctor Virgil Swann," Clark stated into the phone in a slow clear voice.

The phone rang twice before it was picked up.

"Hello?" said the answering male voice in a tone that was hardly above a whisper.

"Ahh, hi. My name is Clark Kent. I would like to speak with Doctor Swann, please."

"Hello, Clark. . . . . This is . . . Doctor Swann."

Clark hadn't expected a billionaire like Swann to answer his own phone. But then who knew what special arrangement Chloe had with the man. With all of her connections and resources, it was certainly possible she would have access to his personal, private cell phone number.

"Umm, I am a close friend of Chloe Sullivan. I'm afraid she is in trouble and she suggested you might be able to help me."

"Yes, Clark . . . I have . . . been waiting . . . for your . . . call."

When Doctor Swann had first answered, Clark had thought they had a bad connection. But now after this second remark, he was certain there was something wrong with the man. He was definitely pausing after every couple of words to catch his breath.

Then Clark got passed Swann's strange speaking cadence and his words sunk in. He said he had been waiting for Clark's call. But how could that be possible when the events which would cause Clark to seek him out wouldn't even occur for two more days?

Seeming to understand Clark's confusion, the voice on the phone continued. "Clark . . . there are . . . things we need . . . to discuss . . . but it would . . . be best face . . . to face. . . . When could you . . . visit me?"

"I can be there as soon as it would be convenient for you, Doctor Swann. I am currently in Central Park right across the street from the Museum entrance."

"Very good . . . Clark . . . Now would . . . be fine . . . Inside the . . . . entrance there . . . there is a bank . . . of elevators . . . to the left . . . Use the . . . rightmost one . . . Place your left . . . thumb . . . two inches . . above the top . . . button . . . It will . . .read your . . . fingerprint . . . and take you . . . to my private . . . level."

Read my fingerprint? Doctor Swann really wasn't kidding when he said he was expecting me, thought Clark.

"Okay," answered Clark. "I should be there in ten minutes."

"Good . . . Clark . . . See you . . . then."

Before Clark could say or ask anything further, the phone clicked off from the other end.

Clark lowered the phone and then stared at it for a minute. What was going on? Swann seemed to know a lot more about him than he should. Clark was certain Chloe would never have revealed his secret to this stranger. And he couldn't imagine how knowing the signal Chloe had captured on the long ago day of his arrival was related specifically to him would help in deciphering it. But then if they had been able to decipher the message, perhaps it had somehow given him away - although surely Chloe would have told him, if she and Swann had deciphered the message. Or had Swann decoded it without letting Chloe know? What did he really know about Swann beyond the couple of terse comments by Chloe telling him to go see the man? He realized his mind was going in circles and he needed to just do it – talk to Swann.

Rising to his feet, he slipped the phone into his pants pocket and turned in the direction of the museum. It was a walk of less than thirty seconds to reach traffic-filled Central Park West which separated him from his destination. Forty feet to his left was the cross-walk where a dozen other pedestrians waited for the light to change. He had just walked up to join them when the 'Walk' sign turned green.

As he crossed the street, he looked up at the imposing entrance to the Museum with four tall Greek columns flanking the main door. His flight around the building had highlighted on the other sides its turrets and crenellated roofline which is what had made him think it belonged back in Germany. But from this angle, it most reminded him of Chloe's palace back in ancient Rome – in particular the entrance to her Greek Library. Was he already reaching the point in life where everywhere he went would remind him of somewhere he had already been?

Stepping from the street onto the wide sidewalk in front of the recessed entrance, Clark paused for a moment to watch a work crew unfurl a large canvas banner above the main entrance. Two banners were already hanging from each side; one exclaiming a special exhibit about ancient fossils of Vietnam and the other highlighting the Hall of Ocean Life. Then the central banner came scrolling down with a giant stylized painting of a large black rock racing toward the planet Earth in the background. Across the bottom it read: _'See the All New Hall of Meteorites!'_'

Hall of Meteorites? Clark got a queasy feeling just looking at the sign. If they had meteorites, they doubtlessly had some from Smallville since it had been the biggest shower to hit the United States in the last hundred years. He almost dreaded going into the building. But even more he suddenly was concerned about Sliviuh. Did she know about this exhibit? He thought he was reasonably safe from her until he got back to Smallville, but now he wasn't as certain. Hopefully the message she had scrawled on the dumpster was just a mind game to distract him while she headed in a completely different direction. Then he remembered the thousands of sailors she had mentally enslaved back on the battleship. She wouldn't confront him one-on-one even with a meteor rock in her possession; it wasn't her style. No, she would round up a thousand men, give each of them a rock, and let them do the dirty work. Only once she was certain Clark was subdued would Sliviuh make her appearance.

Clark couldn't quite suppress the shudder which passed through his body at the sudden mental image of himself standing at the center of Smallville High's football field with thousands of men converging on him each holding a glowing green piece of Kryptonite high and shouting in unison, 'Be afraid, Clark. Be very afraid.' Saving Chloe was becoming more and more urgent. With a final glance at the large banner, Clark hurried through the museum's entrance.

Inside the cool air-conditioned lobby of the museum, Clark's eyes immediately darted to the left and found the bank of elevators Swann had mentioned. There were four in all and seven people were already queued up waiting for the next car. As Clark walked over to join the others, he scanned the lobby for signs leading to the various exhibit halls. Quickly he found the one for the meteorites and marked in his mind that it pointed off to the right. He definitely was going to avoid that end of the Museum if at all possible.

The first elevator to arrive was the second from the left. After disgorging its current passengers, the other seven people moved aboard. The last man courteously held his hand across the door to keep it from closing while glancing at Clark. When Clark shook his head, the man nodded and let the door slide closed.

As soon as the elevator door closed, Clark stepped forward and pressed the up button to call another car. In the end he had to wait for two more before the rightmost one finally made an appearance. At the same time two girls, who looked to be about fourteen, walked up and followed him in.

"What floor?" Clark asked.

"Three, please," answered the blonde, as her friend with the red hair leaned over and whispered something in her ear, which caused them both to start giggling.

Clark pressed the 'three' button glad they hadn't asked for the top floor. Then after pressing 'four' for himself, he tried to casually slide his hand up the wall a little higher as though to support part of his weight while pressing his thumb against the spot Swann had indicated. On the surface there was nothing to indicate this spot on the stainless steel wall was any different than any other, but after a brief inspection with his x-ray vision Clark clearly saw the buried sensor.

The old elevator seemed to take forever to reach the third floor and the whole way Clark could feel the girls' eyes and hear their giggles and whispers. For a moment he wished he could turn down his enhanced hearing as what the girls were saying was down right embarrassing. He could feel the back of his neck start to turn red in response and then the blush threatened to spread onto his face. 'How weird is that?' He thought. 'You could probably dip me in molten lava and my skin would look just the same. Yet two young girls whispering about the cuteness of my butt causes a not very subtle reaction.'

Finally, the doors opened on three and after a last lingering look the girls stepped out and no one got in. Clark sighed as the doors slid shut and then reached up and planted his thumb on the indicated spot again for good measure.

The mechanism seemed to understand there was now only a single passenger and went straight to the fifth level without stopping at four. When the door slid open, Clark stepped out into an alcove with tall windows overlooking Central Park. The solitary exit was a long corridor leading off to the left in the opposite direction from the Park.

Now that his goal was almost in sight, Clark set off down the corridor with a determined stride. The corridor was tall with fifteen foot ceilings. Every ten feet the wall was interrupted by a pair of tall windows. The ones on the right gave a view of Roosevelt Park on the north side of the Museum. The ones on the left gave a view of the skyscraper-lined southern end of Manhattan. Between each set of windows were large painted portraits. Based on the telescopes prominently on display in each one, it was obvious these were all famous astronomers. And also spaced along the hundred foot long corridor were a collection of antique telescopes, astrolabes, and sextants.

At the end of the corridor a large set of double doors stood braced open. The room beyond was large, at least sixty by sixty feet. And it was only dimly light by a few widely spaced tall windows which threw brilliant shafts of light across the room but left many areas in shadows. And from what was readily visible in the well-lit areas, the room was filled with a giant collection of antique mechanical and optical devices of which the few items in the corridor were but a small overflow.

Stepping into the room, Clark called out. "Doctor Swann? It is Clark Kent."

For a moment Clark saw nothing. Then he heard movement down at the far end of the room. Gradually, he saw and heard something slowly moving towards him through the shadows, occasionally turning left and right as it wove through the cluttered aisles of old scientific apparatuses. At first Clark couldn't understand what he was seeing because the movement wasn't tall enough to be a man walking. Then he recognized what he was seeing was a wheelchair. And he also realized what he was hearing was more than a simple electric motor driving the chair. No, the other, overlaid sound had to be some kind of respirator. And suddenly Swann's strange speech pattern became clear.

Slowly the wheel chair continued its plodding approach, but Clark seemed frozen in his spot and could only wait for its arrival.

Suddenly, as it was about to turn the last corner which would bring the chair and its occupant into clear view, a mechanically amplified voice called out. "Welcome, Clark."

Then the chair turned the corner and simultaneously passed into a shaft of light from one of the windows giving Clark a clear view of its broken and battered occupant. The man looked old and in addition to the breathing tube attached to his throat numerous other tubes were connected to his exposed right forearm.

There was something oddly familiar about him, Clark thought, although he was certain he had never seen a photo of the reclusive Billionaire. Then the horror truly struck home as Clark realized why he looked so familiar, Clark had seen him healthy and whole less than ten minutes earlier. The severely damaged man in the chair, the mysterious Doctor Virgil Swann, was Var-El of Krypton.

End of Chapter 21

Author's Notes

It has been a long time since we heard from Lana, last seen in turn of the century Montana. So I decided it was an appropriate time and place to bring her more fully back into the story. Since she was trapped in a world where magic is possible, I wondered how things would have evolved over a long period of time there. Wanting to tie in earlier things in the story for continuity, I thought about the numerous associations between Chloe and sphinxes and lions. And then the several references I had made to the scene in the cemetery in the series pilot episode where Clark stood in front of the statue of the angel so it looked as though he had wings. And finally the several earlier references to Dante's Inferno. So I decided it might be fun to write my own little riff on Dante's Inferno by sending Lana on a trip through Hades. Plus by bringing Lana back into the story now, it gave me an opportunity to throw in a rationale as to why Sliviuh needed to head straight back to Smallville rather than disappearing from view until she could consolidate her powerbase. Hmm, whose body should Sliviuh make a try for? Chloe or someone else?

At the moment I am thinking there will be two more chapters before winding up this arc of the story. The next chapter will focus on Clark & Var-El and in it Clark will take another big step forward on his journey to become Superman. Then in the final chapter all of the players will be drawn back to the events in the Kent's storm cellar, or shortly thereafter, for the final confrontation.

I hope you enjoyed this somewhat different chapter,

Duane


	22. Chapter 22

7/15/07

Biological Families – Chapter 22

Part 1

Var looked up at the tall, youthful Kryptonian standing in front of him. From his own perspective, it had been almost sixty-five 'Earth' years since they had last parted - sixty-five long hard years with most of them spent trapped here in this crippled body. Yet he understood how from Clark's perspective they had been together back in 1936 Washington mere minutes before and he knew what a shock his appearance must be.

"Clark," he rasped out after waiting the necessary three seconds for the respirator to be in the proper portion of its cycle to force air passed his vocal cords. "I am . . . sorry you had . . . to find . . . me like this."

For a moment it looked like Clark was going to just stand there, frozen in shock. But after only a few seconds he saw Clark visibly pull himself together.

"Var, what happened?"

Var shrugged. Or at least he tried to. After all of the decades he had been trapped in this chair and its many predecessors, he still at times forgot that almost all of his body below the neck and even some of it above the neck was no longer under his voluntary control.

"Long story . . . follow me . . . I have . . . prepared a recording . . . which will explain . . . it better . . . and quicker . . . than I can."

Var turned his chair and headed back to the main computer terminal where he had been working when Clark's long anticipated, yet unexpected call had come through. Oh, he had been keeping tabs on Clark's life in Smallville and knew from his approximate age during their encounter in Nazi Germany that it was bound to happen sometime in the next few months; yet receiving the call on this particular day had been a bit of a surprise. The explosion in the Physics building at Metropolis University, which had certainly destroyed the time machine, had only been six days earlier. He had assumed it would take months to get it back in service before the events leading to Clark's appearance at the hangar in Peenemunde could occur. But here he was now. So either the timeloop Clark was experiencing was a lot more convoluted then he had expected or else Elizabeth Campbell, or Chloe Sullivan as Clark knew her, had a backup device already in place. And knowing Lizzy, who always seemed to think twenty steps ahead like the Grand Master chess player she was, he suspected the latter.

Var was still thinking about Lizzy as his chair rolled to a stop before the voice control interface on his personal, highly modified computer. During his conversations with Clark back in 1936 when they had had extra time to kill during the flight from Germany to Washington, he had learned a little about Clark's girlfriend's extraordinary life and her centuries' long project to develop the time machine. When he had once again found himself stranded on Earth, he had set about tracking her down. The fact that she would only adopt the 'Chloe Sullivan' name shortly before arriving in Smallville hadn't significantly increased the difficulty of finding her. No, with his unique scientific background and enhanced Kryptonian mental abilities, it hadn't been difficult to find hints in various scientific publications, patent applications, and lists of small technology start-up companies. These hints had all pointed to a handful of venture capital companies. And when the paper trail of five out of eight of the venture capital companies eventually led to a single woman, he had been certain he had found Clark's future girlfriend. Then it had been a simple matter of dangling a couple 'never before seen' scientific advancements in front of her people to make contact. Eventually he had come to realize he, too, was part of the giant timeloop generated by the creation of the device. For if Clark hadn't used the device to go back in time to rescue him, Var never would have ended up helping to create the very device which would end up sending Clark back in time.

Enough thinking about Lizzy and how their lives had become entangled over the past quarter century, thought Var. It was now time to focus on Clark.

"Computer . . . start program . . . Clark One," enunciated Var carefully.

On the wall behind the desk was mounted a very large framed mirror at least a dozen feet wide by five feet tall. At least at first glance it looked like a giant mirror, but at Var's words Clark, out of the corner of his eye, noticed something about it had changed. When he turned to look at it more closely, he immediately realized it was more than a simple mirror. The image it was showing looked like a mirror image, but there were subtle differences. However what had caught his attention was how the apparent reflection of Var in his wheel chair had abruptly morphed into the healthy, vibrant man Clark remembered from his time onboard Var's ship. But before Clark could turn to question Var, his miraculous doppelganger in the fake mirror began to speak.

"Clark, I am a program designed to provide you with some background on both my personal history and how I ended up sitting here, as well as some more historical type data that will be useful in the future. Feel free to jump in with any questions you might have and I will endeavor to answer them."

Clark slowly nodded and it was as though the image on the screen could read his facial expressions, as its monologue immediately continued.

"The first thing I need to do, Clark, is to clarify some of the things I told you right before we parted company back in 1936, based on additional information I now have available as well as some things I was afraid to say because of the timeloop. The timeloop you have been experiencing is about to close, correct?"

"Yes, I will depart for 1936 on Saturday, two days from now."

"Two days?" echoed the Var on the screen. "Good, that should give us plenty of time to cover the things we need to discuss as well as prepare you for the upcoming events."

"Now, as I said back in 1936, the damage to my ship, which left me stranded in Germany, wasn't a direct result of my translation from Krypton to Earth." The image of Var paused for a moment almost as though it was a real person rather than a program. "The actual situation was that my ship had been under attack by three Kryptonian Defense Cruisers when I attempted the jump. I had taken one hit and the next missile would have destroyed my ship if I had remained on Krypton for two seconds longer."

"I remember that part, of course I should, since you just told me about it twenty minutes ago, at least from my perspective," Clark answered with a small smile. "You said it was because of some trends you had uncovered indicating a bleak future for Krypton. However you didn't explain in what terms the future was bleak. Was it political or economic?"

"Actually, neither. What I had been working on was a projection of the environmental trends of the planet. Krypton had suffered an incredibly long, devastating war in the distant past. It lasted for a thousand years and by the end, weapons were used that make hydrogen bombs look like hand grenades.

"When the war was finally over, things did not return to normal as everyone expected. Rather the environment became more and more inhospitable due to massive radiation storms that continually circled the planet. Over time all but the hardiest forms of plant and animal life died out. Three hundred years ago the Kryptonian race was forced to start erecting protective domes over their cities or else move entirely underground.

"By my time, Kryptonians had been living under the domes for so long it had begun to feel natural. Everyone, including the ruling council, believed the status quo could be maintained indefinitely. However the data I had been collecting showed that the situation was not stable, but was getting worse at an exponential rate. My projections showed that all life outside the domes would be extinct within 40-50 years of my original departure from Krypton. And even the domes wouldn't protect us. The steadily rising radiation levels would become lethal within sixty years.

"And even if we could somehow incorporate improved radiation shielding into the domes, it would only gain a small increment of time. The real cause of the problems was a planet-buster bomb that one of the sides in the war had attempted to set off when it became apparent they were losing. It was an experimental device and they didn't manage to get it deep enough to implode the planet, but it did create a small black hole. Well, small compared to the black hole sometimes formed at the core of an exploding supernova star. Even on a planetary scale it started small, massing no more than two million tons, about the equivalent of say Devil's Tower out in Wyoming. Have you ever been there, Clark?"

Clark remembered the vacation he had taken to Wyoming with his parents the summer he had turned nine. The weather had been good that year and his Dad had gotten the crops in early and decided things could take care of themselves with a little help from the neighbors for ten days in early June. They had just had time to visit Mount Rushmore, Devil's Tower, and Yellowstone. Devil's Tower had seemed such an oddity. Hundreds of feet tall, this butte of stone stood there all alone with nothing similar visible anywhere around. It had been a cool summer day and at least ten separate parties were visible climbing its steep flanks. At the time it had looked so scary, but now with his new found flying abilities he could reach its flat summit in less than a second. It was definitely one of the wonders of the world he wanted to revisit once Chloe was restored.

But then Clark forced his thoughts back to what the image of Var on the screen had been saying. Someone on Krypton had set off a device which had created a black hole with the mass of Devil's Tower somewhere inside the planet.

"Yeah, I have been to Devil's Tower and it is huge. I know black holes are all about gravity and sucking matter in. Wouldn't such a thing quickly destroy a planet?"

"This black hole was really tiny. Oh, two million tons sounds like a lot, but a black hole that size is actually smaller than a single atom. And atoms, even in things like solid rock, are pretty far apart when looked at on an atomic scale. Of course, as you said gravity is one of the key things about black holes and in this case the first thing to consider is the interaction of the black hole with the gravity center of Krypton. They would feel a mutual attraction and would start moving towards each other. Now since the planet massed millions of times more than the black hole, the black hole did most of the moving. The black hole fell towards the center of the planet, but like all celestial bodies, Krypton was at the same time moving in orbit about its sun. So the black hole didn't actually reach the exact center of the planet, but instead ended up in a highly elliptical orbit that at one extreme came within twenty miles of the surface of the planet and at the other extreme dipped three hundred miles into the inner core. It completed one 'orbit' every sixty-three minutes.

"Now, as I said, on an atomic scale even solid rock is mostly empty space. The black hole cruised along in its orbit occasionally passing close enough to suck in the stray atom, which in the early days amounted to maybe a ton of material per orbit – again not a lot on a planetary scale. However as each atom crosses the event horizon it releases a small burst of radiation. And even in the early days the radiation released by a ton of material per hour was having an effect on the planet's surface and was the secret driving force behind the never-ending radiation storms."

"And nobody knew this was going on?" asked Clark.

The image of Var shook his head. "No. Even at the time of my first trip to Earth I didn't know about the underlying cause. All I had been doing was collecting data on the effects. I thought the ongoing, worsening radiation problems were related to the weapons released on the surface of the planet during the long ago war, but it wasn't clear what was continuing to reinforce them. I should have suspected with the earthquake data I had been collecting, but I guess I was simply too close to the problem. What is that Earth saying – 'I couldn't see the forest because of the trees'."

"Earthquake data?"

"Krypton had been experiencing steadily worsening earthquakes during the past few centuries. By the time of my first trip, we were seeing a couple quakes per year that would measure around 12 on the Earth's Richter scale. And my predictions showed increasing frequency and severity in the future. Within 50-60 years they were going to be so severe there was a high probability of the planet breaking up.

"In hindsight it is obvious everything Krypton was experiencing was related to the black hole. As it continued to grow over the centuries it was starting to effect things on a seismic scale. Now rather than sucking in a few million atoms per second it was boring tunnels several meters wide through the planet with each orbit."

While the image of Var had continued to talk, the screen had changed from the fake mirror into a graphical display of what the black hole had been doing to the interior of Krypton. As Clark stared at the bright colors used to show the black hole's passage, part of his mind was running the numbers for years until Krypton's destruction in his head. Var had left Krypton for the first time in the Earth year of 1934. If the planet was to become completely uninhabitable in 50-60 years, that would have put the end in the period from 1984 to 1994. If the small spaceship he had arrived in had had a similar instantaneous drive to the one in Var's ship, it would have left Krypton in 1988 – right in the middle of Var's estimate for end of the planet. Was he the sole survivor of the destruction of Krypton, well other than Var who had been trapped here apparently years earlier?

"Var, if the situation was becoming that desperate, why wasn't anyone doing anything to start evacuating the planet?"

"Somebody was. Me. Unfortunately, I was having trouble getting anyone to listen."

"But why?" asked Clark. "It certainly sounds like there were plenty of signs for anyone to see."

"Well, that was part of the problem. There were plenty of signs, but they were all only gradually getting worse and the mind, human or Kryptonian, likes to think that things are stable. So without a root cause to explain things – and I didn't know about the black hole until later – it was simpler to arrest me for spreading subversive lies then to accept what I was saying."

Clark shook his head. "I guess I can understand why they would want to silence you, but why try to shoot down your ship?"

The large wall display reverted back to its mirror function with Var once again standing there looking out at Clark.

"The Kryptonian race was extremely xenophobic. Down through the millennia the planet had been invaded and conquered on several occasions by alien intruders. Everyone was afraid of drawing the attention of outsiders if we started traveling beyond our solar system." Var shook his head. "If they only knew the powers they would possess once they were away from the effects of our red sun, but they didn't. Anyway, I think a lot of people, including members of the ruling council, would rather have died then risk going out into the galaxy. So when I announced the development of my ship and my intention to look for a new home, well that's what triggered my arrest. They were attempting to confiscate my ship when I made my escape. I truly believe they brought in the cruisers with the intent to merely scare me into surrendering and things just escalated out of control."

Clark nodded in response to Var's explanation of the events leading up to his original arrival on Earth, but his mind kept circling back to Krypton's eminent destruction via the black hole and how the dates seemed to line up with his own arrival on Earth.

"Var, is Krypton gone? I mean, has the black hole really destroyed the planet?"

The image on the screen looked at Clark for a moment and then turned to look at the true Var trapped in the wheelchair. Clark followed the image's gaze and found himself looking down at his old friend – the man who had mere hours before helped him to evacuate first the great battleship Hitler and then the Peenemunde complex in the minutes before they destroyed it.

"Clark . . . I have been . . . trapped here . . . for almost . . . fifty-five years . . . so I do not . . . know for certain . . . but my gut . . . says yes."

Clark suddenly found it necessary to lean against the corner of the desk. He had suspected for some time that that was the case, but this was the closest he had come to confirmation. And it was the closest he might ever come until he somehow traveled there himself. He remembered how Chloe had told him on the first night of his return from ancient Rome that she was building a 'souped up' version of the portal device with sufficient range to reach the distant star. But if they were to use it, what would they find? Just a pile of rubble slowing being eaten by the black hole? If the planet had been destroyed, where could the device even open a portal?

Then Clark remembered Var's ship. If they traveled to Krypton via a ship, at least they would be safe, even if the planet itself was gone.

"Var, I have to know for certain what happened – if the planet is gone or if there is any trace of survivors. If you have been here for the past fifty-five years, perhaps they evacuated after you left. What about your ship, could I use it to travel back to Krypton?"

This time it was the image on the display that answered. "My original ship was confiscated and destroyed upon my return to Krypton. Based on events on Krypton after my return and general knowledge of your time machine, I attempted an alternate design for my second attempt to reach Earth which would be more useful in transporting large quantities of people than the self-contained ship design of my first attempt. But as you can see from my present condition, this new design was less than completely successful."

As the 'program' Var began to describe the chain of events after his return to Krypton which had led to his present predicament, the 'real' Var couldn't stop his mind from rerunning those same events in parallel.

Part 2

Var took one last look at the planet Earth from the vantage point of his ship which hung motionless twenty miles above Washington D.C. Off to the east glistened the waters of the Atlantic. In the west the Appalachian Mountains were just visible against the distinctly curved horizon which this 'near space' location made obvious.

For a moment his mind turned to Clark and his nearly unbelievable story. Time travel, a girlfriend who had lived almost forever, and nanobot enhanced bodies – any or all of them would have been impossible to believe except for the equally unbelievable abilities he himself possessed on this world.

And thoughts of his superhuman gifts raised the question he had been putting off – what would he, no, should he say when he got home? Of course he would have to tell his wife, Salva, but what about others – in particular the Supreme Council? He didn't have anything beyond his word to prove his story. Oh, he had some tele-recordings demonstrating his speed and strength, but any emotive-cinema production team could easily produce special effects that would look more 'real'.

Plus, did he really want word getting out that resettling to Earth would grant every Kryptonian near godlike abilities? He remembered how the Nazis' had sabotaged his ship, which brought to mind that not all Kryptonians were 'pure as the driven snow', as the Earthmen would say. No, Krypton had its share of bad elements. And if those bad elements somehow arrived on Earth first, they would be quite capable of destroying the planet.

Therefore Var decided it was probably best to not divulge his secret until he had more time to consider the potential upside and downside of any decision.

And even the decision to return to Krypton at this time had its own upside and downside arguments. Meeting Clark and his friends the previous evening had reminded him that he had utterly failed in his original purpose for coming to Earth. He had come with the goal of finding a new home for the people of Krypton. Earth definitely had sufficient space to absorb the millions of inhabitants of Krypton, but he had made no contacts with any of the major Earth nations let alone reached any binding agreements.

No, if he was going to be honest with himself he was going home with his tail between his legs, an utter failure. But it had been over two years since he had seen Salva or any of his children. Well, more like a year and a half, as he needed to force himself to start thinking in Kryptonian units rather than their human counterpart.

Deciding that he needed to see his family more than he needed to stay on Earth, he pressed the button which activated the teleportation drive. Just as his final view of Earth faded from the large semi-spherical dome which formed the upper surface of the control room, he came to the conclusion that the next time he journeyed to a new planet, he was most definitely going to bring someone along who had been trained in diplomacy and had some natural gifts for simply dealing with people – both of which were clearly areas that weren't his forte.

Abruptly the view through the dome changed from the deep blue of Earth's upper atmosphere to the deep green of Krypton's. And just as abruptly he felt all of the impossible abilities his body had on Earth slip away. His incredible strength was gone. He felt half blind and deaf as much of the electromagnetic spectrum which had been accessible was ripped away. His right knee even began to ache again from the Kresche injury he had suffered during his student days. For a moment he was almost glad he had been sitting in the command chair when the transition occurred rather than standing.

"Ship, status on the drive systems, please. And where are we?" asked Var of the ship's brain.

**+-+ Both the anti-gravity drive and the teleportation drive are within acceptable parameters. Our current location is fourteen miles north of the estate. +-+**

"Ship, get us down to three hundred feet in an emergency descent and then make best possible speed for home. Monitor the airwaves for any indication we have been noticed, as well as watch for other airborne traffic."

**+-+ Understood. Implementing course corrections now. +-+**

Var's stomach abruptly felt like it had fallen through the floor as the mighty ship dove for the ground. Within twenty seconds they had dropped forty thousand feet and the ship began decelerating hard to keep them from hitting the rapidly approaching ground.

Var just had a quick glimpse of what he was certain was the El estate before the ship was down among the canyons racing for home. As the ship twisted and turned, he couldn't help but vividly remember his last ride like this. If the teleportation drive had taken just a few seconds longer to warm up, he would have been long dead by now. He hoped it wouldn't come to that again, but just in case this time he had a pre-recorded surrender message ready to go with a moment's notice.

**+-+ I am picking up a sudden increase in the coded message traffic, however I don't see any Defense Force ships within scanning range. We will arrive at the estate in twenty seconds. +-+**

"Ship, send the house brain the security codes and then direct it to open the main hanger door. Also have it open a communication link to Salva."

**+-+ Acknowledge. . . . The house brain has accepted the security codes. The hangar door is opening. We will be there in twelve seconds. +-+**

Twelve seconds suddenly seemed like an eternity as Var sat watching the canyon walls race by.

Finally, just as the hangar entrance came into view, one of the monitors attached to the command chair sprang to life and Salva's shocked face filled the screen.

"Var is that really you?" she whispered after five seconds of silence. "They said you were dead."

Var nodded as he felt his eyes tear up. He hadn't realized how much he had actually missed his wife until this moment when he finally saw her again.

"Yes, it is really me. How are the children?"

"Everyone is fine now, but we had some rough months after you died, or I guess 'disappeared' is now a more accurate word. Rao, are you really back? What happened? Where have you been?"

While most of his attention was focused on his wife, a small part was keeping track of the ship's progress. It had just entered the cavernous hanger. He felt the slightest jolt pass through the structure of the ship as its three large landing struts deployed. Then as it settled to the ground, it rotated one hundred eighty degrees until it was facing back towards the massive door which was already in the process of sliding closed.

"Salva, I have just arrived at the estate and I am planning on coming straight home from here. I will explain where I have been when I arrive. Oh, you better call Yas-Blee and tell him I am back, although he probably already knows. Please suggest that he comes out to the house. I am ready to surrender myself if that's required."

"Surrender yourself? But . . . you just got back," exclaimed Salva, as Var watched how she was trying to hold back her tears.

"Well, I was under arrest the last time I was here and they tried pretty hard to destroy my ship. And unless there have been major changes in leadership while I was gone, I don't see how anything is different. Even if all is miraculously forgiven, they are still going to want to do a debriefing."

Salva slowly shook her head. "No, nothing major has changed along those fronts." She paused for a moment and then squeezed her eyes tightly shut. When she opened them she had an expression that said it had been an experiment to verify if Var was really there or just a figment of her imagination.

"Var, I better make that call and then I need to round up the children." She paused for a moment and then her hand reached towards the screen as though it could pass straight through so she could touch him and convince herself that he had truly returned.

Var found his own hand reaching towards the screen. "I will see you in thirty minutes. Salva, I love you."

"I love . . . you, too," she finally managed to get out.

- + - + - + - + - +

Var had been under house arrest for six months when Yas-Blee was unexpectedly announced by the house brain. Var hadn't seen him face-to-face since that first day on his return from Earth. And he wasn't sure he wanted to see him now for whatever the reason for this visit, it couldn't be good news.

No, they hadn't parted on good terms the last time they met. Var had thought at the time Blee had wanted him to be executed on the spot. He had always believed Blee was one of the moderates associated with the Supreme Council, not one of the more extreme xenophobes. Fortunately, cooler heads had prevailed after Var had explained Earth's complete lack of space capabilities and rather than being executed he had merely been hit with house arrest enforced by a small squadron of Blee's elite guards.

Now, Blee was back and there was no point in postponing the inevitable. Var told the house brain to direct Blee to his study and then put down his light brush and stepped back to study his current work. Since he was restricted from all of his normal technological pursuits, he had been using his time to document his most interesting memories of his time on Earth. Today he had been working on an image from the pivotal encounter out over the Baltic. In the center was the great German battleship hanging vertical in the air where Clark had just hoisted from the depths with water still cascading down its gray hull. In the background was the brilliant red Nazi anti-gravity vessel they had created by copying the basic design of his ship. In this scale the gaping wounds from its conflict with the battleship and the emasculation of its primary weaponry by Clark were clearly visible. Unfortunately, what wasn't clearly visible was Clark. No, Clark was a mere speck at the prow of the battleship and Var hadn't found any angle which more clearly showed Clark and yet captured the rest of the scene. Perhaps it was time to admit this 2-D still format was never going to capture both the epic scale and the individual heroics at the same time. To truly achieve what he wanted, an emotive cinema approach was what he needed. He wished he could bring in a team to record his vision, but he was going to have to learn to do it himself – allowing others to become involved would be to risk the secret of Kryptonians' abilities on Earth.

As he removed his work smock, Var remembered his conversations with Salva during those first days after his return. He had tried to explain the incredible abilities he had acquired while on Earth, but she had been difficult to convince. But then who in their right mind would believe that simply traveling to that planet would bestow unimaginable speed and strength, the ability to fly, the x-ray and heat vision, and all of the other things. It wasn't until he played for her the tele-footage he had recorded on Earth and then dumped to a data crystal that she started to believe a little of what he had been saying.

And if his own wife needed visual proof before being able to accept what he had been saying, what about everyone else? But perhaps it was for the best, if it was too easy to believe, there might be an exodus to Earth of all the wrong types of people. For Clark's comments about the Nazi mentality had opened his eyes to some of what went on in the world – be it Earth or Krypton – beyond his normal narrow focus on his scientific projects and his immediate family. Now that he had forced himself to look, he recognized a lot more bad traits in people, both big and small, than he had ever noticed before.

But as long as neither he nor Salva said anything and no one stumbled across the carefully hidden data crystals, the secret should be safe. As he had expected, his ship had been immediately confiscated, so he had carefully deleted from the ship's systems any references to special abilities possessed by either himself or Clark, which brought his thoughts back to his current art project. Was it even wise to create an image such as this? But on this scale, with Clark nearly invisible, who was to say what the picture represented? Since no one who would see it had ever been to Earth, how would they know the battleship didn't actually fly in the vertical orientation shown? Since Krypton had had anti-gravity ships for millennia, most people would probably think it was natural that humans would be at the same level for intercontinental travel.

As he headed towards his study to meet Blee, Var tried to get his mind away from the whole 'incredible abilities on Earth' topic since it seemed extremely unlikely that was why Blee was here. Unfortunately, the next thing that popped into his head was what Blee had done to his ship. Oh, he had known in his heart it would be confiscated, but he hadn't expected it would be cut up and sent to salvage with only a cursory inspection for useful data.

'Calm yourself,' Var chastised himself. The ship was in the past now and he would have to find alternate solutions for eventually evacuating the planet. And truthfully, it was a useful tool for a mission of discovery, but it would have been too limited for evacuating more than a handful of people. No, after Clark's brief, non-technical description of the combination teleportation/time travel device he had been using, it seemed like just what he was going to need to transport hundreds of millions of people. Vehicles like his ship would take a lot of time shuttling back and forth between Krypton and Earth or whatever planet they settled on. But with a large version of the portal machine in every major city, the people could simply walk through to their new adopted world.

Var had already been doing some surreptitious calculations and had hit the first roadblock. The power required to hold open a passageway between worlds for hours or days on end far exceeded what was required for the short, nearly instantaneous jump of his ship. Rao, even the few seconds Clark's device held open its doorway would seem to far exceed the power output of his ship. Yet he knew Clark's machine couldn't possibly have access to that kind of power. So Clark or rather his girlfriend had come up with some solution that required a lot less power than his calculations had indicated. Not for the first time he found himself wishing he had asked Clark more questions about the underlying principles of his device.

His musings about Clark's device had absorbed so much of his attention, his body seemed to find its way to his study on auto-pilot or at least it seemed that way when he suddenly found himself stepping through the doorway and watching Blee slowly climb back to feet.

"Welcome to my home, Yas Blee," began Var with the traditional greeting as he took in the other man's formal, almost gaudy attire. Normally, Blee appeared to prefer a simple monochromatic black jumpsuit with just his family's crest for adornment, but today he was in his official green and emerald uniform with what appeared to be every crescent, insignia, and glyph he had ever earned.

Abruptly Var felt a stab of fear. Perhaps Blee was here to formally announce the charges which had keep him under house arrest for the passed six months. But then as he fought to still his racing heart, Var tried to convince himself that maybe it was for the best. At least if they formally charged him it would get him out of this dull limbo he had become trapped in.

So, Blee's first words came as a surprise if not an actual shock.

"Var El, I am here to officially notify you that your commission in the Defense Force has been reactivated, effective immediately."

Var had been expecting this visit was going to be the first step down the path to trial and potentially prison or even execution. Therefore this was the last thing he had been expecting.

The only thing he could imagine which would get him drafted back into service would be a perceived threat to the continued existence of the Kryptonian race. Particularly since by long tradition, ever since Hatu El had defeated the alien Vrang all those thousands of years ago, during times of martial law the hereditary head of the El family was the head of planetary defense and second only to the Warlord, whose area of responsibility extended throughout the whole solar system.

Knowing his own arguments with the Supreme Council would never cause them to take action in a way that would suddenly thrust him into a position of power, his mind became all business as he wondered what was going on.

"Has martial law been declared?" he asked to clarify his status.

Yas Blee looked back at him with a cold, furious stare that clearly stated his own opposition to this turn of events which had put a man he thought was a risk to the race in a sudden position of authority.

"Yes, it was declared two hours ago. And yes, your commission is to take over planetary defense, not just the sub-commander rank you held during your tour of service fifteen years ago."

Var could see how much it was costing the other man to remain civil when a man he clearly hated was about to step in as his second-in-command, a job he was most certainly not prepared for.

"What is going on?" asked Var trying to keep things focused on the facts.

"Three hours ago the deep space scanning array spotted an approaching intruder. At first I was certain it was visitors from your supposedly 'none space-flight capable' friends. But with a few minutes of additional observation and data collection, an old familiar energy signature became apparent. Although I still personally don't believe you are off the hook. He hasn't been here in almost seven hundred thirty years and now he shows up a mere six months after you last used your machine. A mere coincident? As a long time military man, I have a hard time believing in coincidences. No, based on my personal experience, nothing happens without an underlying reason."

Blee paused and made a gesture pointing towards the nearest pickup of the house brain. After Var gave a small nod of assent, Blee spoke up. "House Brain, please open a connection to the brain at Planetary Defense Command in Kandor. Have it route a copy of tele-sequence A57-J548-A003 to the nearest tele-display."

**+-+ Acknowledged +-+**

After a pause of ten seconds the left wall of the study, which had been displaying an image of the Fire Falls as seen from the top of the observation tower at the El family estate, slowly faded to black. After a few seconds a scattering of small points of light registered in Var's vision as more than just noise on an open channel and he realized the tele-sequence had already begun. Suddenly, a red circle enclosed one of the points of light slightly to the left and below the center of the image. Quickly, the image recentered on the colored circle and then the circle began to expand as the image zoomed in. When the circle filled half the screen, the image abruptly jumped again and Var knew the large gravity lens tele-scope based on Wegthor had been brought into play. And with the added power of the moon-based tele-scope, the faint point of light resolved itself into the image of a ship - the dreaded ship Kryptonian parents referenced when they needed to frighten their children into being good. While on Earth, Var had heard about 'The Boogie Man' and this ship was the closest Kryptonian equivalent.

The hated ship had been built in the configuration of a giant bleached white skull. It was impossible from the image to get a true sense of scale, but Var knew from the historical records it was the size of a medium asteroid – roughly twenty-five miles in diameter. The skull shape alone made it scary, but from its lower surface daggled a giant mass of gray and black shaded tentacles. Given the scale of the skull, each tentacle had to be almost a mile in diameter and over twenty miles long. The Kryptonians had never determined the true purpose of the tentacles, whether they were part of the ship's propulsion system or served some other purpose, but the mere sight of them were enough to send shivers down Var's spine.

From the moment Blee had made the seven hundred thirty year reference, Var had known to whom he had been referring, but it still hadn't had the same impact as seeing the dreaded ship. For like every boy and girl who had passed through Purl Nous and the tele-learning system, he couldn't help but remember the significance of that date. It marked the last visit by the Kryptonians' most famous and dangerous adversary – Brainiac.

The image of the massive ship filled the screen for at least thirty seconds before the recording ended and the display went blank. It seemed like another thirty seconds passed before Var finally found his voice.

"How long?"

Blee turned from where he, too, had been staring at the blank screen.

"If he maintains his current course and speed, he will be here in three days."

+ - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - +

The next three days seemed to race by in a blur for Var. Blee had insisted that Var relocate to Kandor where the headquarters of the planetary defense organization was located. However Var had refused and insisted instead that the planetary defense needed to be orchestrated from the El Estate outside of Kryptonopolis. In his new found capacity, Var had won out and while Blee returned to Kandor to coordinate the initial defenses in the outer reaches of the solar system, Var had returned to the estate for the first time since his return from Earth. And quickly he was followed by a work-force of hundreds and the old estate was rapidly filled with more activity than it had seen in centuries.

Now, as he happened to be passing through the Hall of Elders, Van El's old powered exoskeletal warsuit caught his eye. As he stared at its bristling array of weapons and hardened armor plating, he couldn't help but think back to his time on Earth and how Clark had single-handedly lifted the great German battleship from the depths of the sea. If only the whole Krypton race had those abilities here on Krypton, he thought, the upcoming conflict might have a different resolution than the one he feared.

However he was kept from further pointless wishful thinking by the loud voice which accompanied the youthful face now visible on the nearest tele-screen.

"Tanth El, the leading elements of our space forces are about to engage the enemy," exclaimed the excited voice in a rush.

Var sighed. Was he really getting that old? He felt no excitement or thrill for battle. He only had a strong feeling in his gut that something very bad was going to happen.

"Thank you, Jes, I will be right down. Please sound the warning alarm telling everyone it is time to relocate to the lowest bunker levels."

"Yes, Tanth El," said the youth before signing off.

Var shook his head as he headed to the nearest grav-shaft. At least the kid wasn't referring to him as Ampar El. If he had, then Var knew he would be feeling truly ancient.

When Var stepped out of the grav shaft at the estate's lowest level, he heard a subdued groan emanating from the large, long disused storage room he had converted into his command post. Quickly, he walked over to the control panel where Jes Ul was monitoring the radio communication link between the estate and Planetary Defense headquarters in Kandor.

"What?" whispered Var in a soft tone in an attempt to keep the others in the room from being distracted from their tasks.

"Tanth, the first twenty of Warlord Blee's ships just engaged the enemy. Unfortunately, they had no apparent success. Brainiac's ship is still proceeding forward with no change in speed or direction. The same can't be said for the defenders. Fourteen of our ships were destroyed outright and communications has been lost with the remaining six. Hopefully, they have just lost their comm systems, but I think we need to assume the worse."

Var nodded – partly in thanks for the update and partly in concurrence with the younger man's assessment; it seemed very unlikely the missing ships would be seen again.

Right up to the start of the battle Blee had been putting a good face on things and had tried to convince everyone that improvements in the state of the art in gravity and maser based weapons in the seven hundred years since their last encounter would level the odds. But Var had never had much confidence in what Blee had been claiming, and secretly he believed Blee would agree. No matter how much their weapons had improved, it was still like a small swarm of crystal gnats going up against a flame dragon. The Defense Forces largest space-borne cruisers barely stretched fifteen hundred feet from stem to stern, which would hardly be noticeable against Brainiac's twenty-five mile wide behemoth. Rao, thought Var as he swore once more upon the name of the chief god of a long gone era – Brainiac's ship was so large, it could easily have an armored hull a hundred feet thick.

At least there was one consolation, thought Var. Unlike the human battleship he had encountered, the Kryptonian ships were only crewed by four people, aided by a large group of robots, rather than the thousand people needed to keep the Nazi ships operational. Still, the first brief encounter had cost them over eighty of their youngest and finest.

Var's thoughts were interrupted by a sharp shout from Jes.

"Yes?"

"Tanth, the alien ship has just opened communications with Warlord Blee."

Ummm, thought Var, things are finally starting to get interesting. Then speaking out loud, he responded. "See if you can get the communication link routed down here."

The younger man nodded and as he bent to his comm. panel, Var couldn't help but think of his own son, Jor. Jes Ul couldn't be more than a couple years older than his youngest son and for a moment he wished it was his son who was here with him. But his son was back at their home in Kryptonopolis. Well, actually, he, his mother, and all the other residents should be in the deepest subterranean shelters below the city. During his last 'visit', Brainiac had wrought a lot of destruction on the surface of the planet. Therefore, as one of his first acts as planetary coordinator, Var had ordered all non-essential personnel to relocate underground eight hours before Brainiac's anticipated arrival.

In less than ten seconds the nearest tele-screen mounted just to the left of Jes' workstation sprang to life. As the image resolved, Jes explained, "Tanth, the message is running on a fifteen second delay, but I thought you would probably want to see it from the beginning."

Var nodded almost absent-mindedly as his full attention was absorbed by the tele-screen and its unexpected image.

Var had chosen not to explain to Blee his true motives for basing his operations at the El family estate. Blee already didn't trust him and was probably just as glad Var had chosen to stay out of his way by not going to Kandor. But the true reason Var had retreated to the estate was to access the ancient family archives. The El family was the oldest continuous line on the planet and they had secret records dating back hundreds, if not thousands of years further than any other public or private source.

Public records documented three previous encounters with Brainiac, but Var was fairly certain he had seen references to at least two earlier encounters during previous research he had done on entirely unrelated topics. So once things had been set in motion with his newly acquired military staff, Var had spent much of his time in his private quarters working with the house brain to sift through the oldest records.

Based on the three previous encounters, most Kryptonians believed Brainiac was of Kryptonian origin – a machine constructed to look like its designers or perhaps some sort of machine/Kryptonian hybrid. It was assumed he was relic of the long lost First Age of Science which had ended over eight thousand years earlier with the atomic accident that destroyed the original capitol city of Erkol. But the oldest and most secret of the El family records dated back to the time of Erok-El, the individual who had first unified the Kryptonian race and started them on the path from a race of migratory herdsmen into the great city-building culture they would eventually become. And those oldest records, which predated the development of true science by hundreds of years, had included fables and stories describing a stranger from the stars who could only be Brainiac. Therefore regardless of what everyone else believed, Var knew Brainiac couldn't be of Kryptonian origin, regardless of how 'normal' his appearance seemed.

However at the start of the message from the oncoming ship, even Var wasn't sure what was going on. The image on the screen didn't look at all Kryptonian. While the creature visible in the image had the expected two arms, two legs, and a head, its face was a shade of green approaching the emerald color of firestones. The top of its bald head was studded with at least fifteen vivid red sensor diodes which looked fully implanted into the green skin stretched over its skull rather than merely pasted in place.

Had some other individual or race wrested control of Brainiac's ship from their ancient nemesis? Var wondered.

However when the creature began to speak, its words came out in clear, unaccented Kryptonese; although whether that was its native tongue or merely the result of an excellent translating program, Var didn't know.

"I am Vril Dox," began the stranger in a booming baritone voice that sounded perfectly capable of being heard from the alien's current location at the edge of the solar system without any need for amplification or retransmission. "I am the Emissary of the Computer Tyrants of Colu."

The creature paused for a moment and Var wondered if he was supposed to recognize the 'Colu' reference. A quick search of his vast enhanced memory didn't dredge up any associations.

"You will cede one of your cities to me," continued Dox. "You have two hours until I arrive at the planet to announce your choice or else I will choose for myself."

And as abruptly as that, communications with the giant alien spaceship was broken. No discussions and no details, just a pronouncement.

After about thirty seconds, when it was obvious the alien wasn't going to add anything further and Var hadn't heard anything from Blee in Kandor, Var turned back to Jes.

"Get Warlord Blee on the line please."

Jes nodded and within ten seconds Blee's image was visible on the same tele-screen which had just displayed the alien.

"Warlord Blee, have you heard of this Vril Dox or the Colu he refers to?"

The image of Blee shook his head. "No, I was going to ask you the same thing."

"What do you make of his demand for control of one city?" Var continued. "I would have thought he would want to conquer the whole planet if he intended to stay here."

"We are not going to give him control of the planet or even a single city. We are not going through another Vrang-style occupation on my watch," answered Blee in an anger tone that was emphasized by a pulsating vein in his left temple.

"How are we going to stop him? You saw how easily he got passed your picket line of cruisers. We can probably throw more ships at him once he gets closer in, but to what purpose? Nothing we have is going to stop him or most likely even slow him down."

Blee took a slow deep breath before responding. "You're right about defeating him in space. Nothing we have is going to put a dent in that ship. But down on the ground is another matter entirely. If he wants control of a city, he isn't going to want to destroy it with heavy weapons, so his primary advantage will be nullified. Therefore we need to make our stand here."

After a moment Var nodded. If they were going to be able to do anything, the first step would have to be to get this Dox separated from his ship. And if they were going to confront him on the ground, what would be the optimum location?

"Where do you suggest?" asked Var.

"I think here in Kandor," answered Blee quickly, as though he had been mulling the decision from the moment Dox had made his announcement. "Between the headquarters of the planetary defense system and the nearby spaceport, we have more men, equipment, and ordnance here then anywhere else on the planet. And with less than two hours, we don't have time to significantly reposition anything."

"I concur," said Var without hesitation, as Blee's logic seemed inescapable. "If I leave now and if there is a maglev car waiting for me in Kryptonopolis, I should be able to reach Kandor in forty-five minutes to help coordinate the final defenses."

Blee stared back at Var and for a moment Var thought he saw a new hint of respect in the other man's eyes, as though Blee hadn't expected this response from Var. Then the man shook his head.

"No, Var, if something goes wrong, we shouldn't both be in Kandor. If it comes to a fight and we lose here, at least you might spot some weakness that will let you save the rest of the planet."

Var nodded. "If there is anything I can do, just ask."

Blee returned the nod with a gesture that indicated he was about to break the connection. But before he did, Var interjected a final question. "How do you think this Dox creature got control of Brainiac's ship? Surely there can't be two ships like that in existence."

"That is the question of the day. If he found some weakness, we needed to figure out how to exploit it, too."

"Of course, if it was me who had gained control of that ship, plugging that particular weakness is the first thing I would have done."

Blee shrugged. "Even if the weakness is still there, it is unlikely we could find it and use it in less than two hours."

Blee straighten almost to attention before formally concluding. "I need to see about preparations. Good fortune to you, Tanth El."

+ - + - + - + - +

For Var the next two hours felt almost two days long and he almost found himself wishing he had gone to Kandor. He was sure the two hours raced by a lot faster for Blee who was busy organizing the city's defenses.

To keep himself and his people occupied, he set them to collecting and organizing all the data they could gather about the ship as it swept further in-system. And the first, most unusual thing they encountered was the ship's trajectory. After Blee's response to the alien's original message, the ship made a single minor course correction and then there had been no further changes. When it got further into the system, it should have begun braking to slow to orbital speeds. Var had expected it would move into geosynchronous orbit over Kandor, but that didn't seem to be the case. No, the closer it approached, the longer it maintained the same course and speed. Eventually, Var requested a plot of its course if it didn't slow and it showed the giant twenty-five mile in diameter ship passing within eighty miles of Krypton's surface. And the perihelion of its approach would be right over Kandor.

Now, with the clock ticking down to less than one minute to its closest approach and no sign of its slowing to achieve orbit, Var had every available sensor trained on the ship. Therefore his instruments recorded the exact instant the ship began projecting a giant pale orange beam towards the ground from a projector mounted on the ship's lower surface just forward of the mass of writhing tentacles. Quickly the beam intensified until it looked almost opaque.

As soon as he saw the activation of this new weapon or whatever, Var changed the primary feeds he was monitoring from views of the ship to views of the ground below. Fortunately one of the defense force's spacecraft was returning to the planet from one of the orbital construction yards and Var could use its sensory array to get a clear shot of Kandor as seen from roughly a thirty mile altitude and one hundred twenty miles downrange. And what he saw made his blood run cold. Whatever that orange beam was, it had expanded to engulf the entire city of Kandor, its tall protective dome, and maybe fifty miles of surrounding wilderness.

For just an instant before the beam turned completely opaque, Var saw something that caused him to think his eyes were deceiving him. It had looked like the central spire which dominated the skyline of Kandor was visibly shrinking, but that was crazy.

The brilliant orange beam continued to hide whatever was going on within its field for perhaps another ten seconds. At the speed at which the giant ship was streaking passed Krypton, Var knew it couldn't hold the beam in place for much longer. And as he expected, the beam abruptly died.

What he didn't expect was that when the beam disappeared, Kandor would be gone. Not lying in ruins as might be expected if the orange beam he had witnessed was some extremely powerful maser or particle beam, but rather the city was completely gone. And from what was visible from the descending craft, even the ground the city sat on was gone as far down as he could see. And with the hole in the ground stretching at least fifty miles across, the depth he could see had to extend down at least ten miles or more into the crust.

At least it did for about five seconds before the enormous pressures involved at those depths tried to find a new equilibrium after trillions of tons of weight had been suddenly removed. Then on a planet which between earthquakes and ion radiation storms had seen more than its share of damage, something truly catastrophic occurred. The giant hole in the ground where the city of Kandor had once stood became the open maw of a supervolcano more than fifty miles across. Within seconds a fountain of molten lava had climbed twenty miles into the sky. And with the explosive blast of magma had come a superheated thermal shockwave which twelve seconds later destroyed the spacecraft Var had been using as a sensor platform.

As the screen went blank, Var stood there blindly staring at it in shock. What had just happened? What had the alien spacecraft done to the capitol city? Had it been destroyed as a simple demonstration of the aliens' power to force the rest of the planet to surrender? But if so, why was the ship not moving into orbit?

Before Var could follow through on any of these thoughts, he was interrupted by a growing clamor of alarm bells, tones, and whistles.

"What is going on?" Var said loudly more to hear his own voice then because he expected any coherent response. But unexpectedly, he did get a response from Mils Ree, the lead civilian scientist on his team. A geologist wouldn't have been his first choice for the current situation involving a space-borne opponent, but he had been forced to use what resources he had. Now it was turning out to be an unexpected break.

"Tanth," began the man formally. "I am picking up severe seismic activity spreading in a radial pattern with an epicenter at Kandor. It is way off the scale from anything I have ever seen and it is knocking every sensor I have off-line as it passes. I project the first magnitude fourteen shockwave will reach here in just over seven minutes. It will be followed by similar magnitude shocks every twenty to thirty seconds for, well I don't really know how long. I have never seen anything like this."

Var remembered back to the pitch he had made to the Supreme Council before his trip to Earth. He hadn't predicted the first magnitude fourteen shockwave until more than thirty years from now. And Ree was indicating that was what they were about to see. And that was here, seven hundred miles from the epicenter in Kandor. What were things like around Kandor? Could anyone survive on that side of the continent? Rao, would anyone ultimately survive on this side of the continent? That massive volcano he had briefly seen wasn't going to stop anytime soon. How many cubic miles of material was going to be ejected into the atmosphere?

Suddenly, Var shook his head and tried to clear his thoughts. If they survived, there would be time to think about those things later. With Kandor gone and Bree dead or lost, he was the acting commander of Krypton. What did he need to do in the remaining minutes before the approaching quake most probably would knock out all of his communications with the outside world?

"Jes, get the commander of the installation on Wegthor on the line, NOW."

As he waited for the connection to be made, Ree spoke up again.

"Tanth, by my best estimate, a thermal shockwave will be following behind the spreading front of quakes. It should be traveling at just below sonic velocities and reach here in seventy four minutes. The air temperature will climb to approximately six hundred degrees and remain there, well, until the supervolcano dies down, but probably on the order of weeks rather than hours. The crystal domes of the cities should be okay at those temperatures assuming the earthquakes don't finish them first. We are deep enough here, we should be okay, too."

Great, thought Var, it just keeps getting better.

"Tanth, I have Commander Mar Zod from the moonbase on the line."

Var glanced at the screen which was showing a slender, some what smarmy looking man with a pointed goatee. He looked early middle age and was wearing the standard issue dark blue uniform of space command.

"Commander Zod. I am Var El, temporary head of Kryptonian Defenses. I am sure you are aware of the situation down here. I expect to lose all communications in just over four minutes. I anticipate the same loss of communications throughout the continent of Lurvan. I am not sure if the situation will be as bad on the other side of the planet in Urrika, but I think we better assume the worse. Therefore I need you to assume overall command until further notice."

"Very good, Tanth. I understand the situation. The volcano where Kandor used to stand is clearly visible from here and it's still broad daylight over Kandor."

"What is the status of the alien ship?" asked Var.

"It has not altered course and has just passed the orbit of this moon. If the destruction of Kandor is intended to threaten us into submission, it seems like an odd flight plan."

"Keep an eye on it, Commander, but your first priority has to be the survival of the Kryptonian race. Render what aid you can to the people down here, but don't risk your own survival to do it. If Krypton becomes uninhabitable, you must find the necessary resources to re-establish our race on some other planet."

Var saw the other man blanch. "Surely, Tanth, it can't be that bad down there?"

Var had seen the images of the supervolcano, and had heard the comments from his geologist. Even more importantly, he had spent years before his trip to Earth studying potential doomsday scenarios. And this sudden attack, even if the aliens didn't see it as an attack from their point of view, fell among the range of some of his worst case scenarios.

"Commander, the volcano and all of its associated aftereffects have only just begun. The peak may not occur for weeks or even months. Don't commit your limited resources to helping people down here too soon."

The commander of the moonbase was just beginning to nod that he understood the situation when Ree shouted. "Here it comes. Everyone brace yourselves!"

Var was just diving across the floor to reach one the large support pillars scattered around the room, when the first shockwave arrived. Seemingly in an instant the floor jumped straight up almost three feet and slammed into Var's chest. Then just as quickly it dropped away and Var experienced what felt like a long moment of freefall before being slammed down into the floor again.

The incredibly loud roar of the quake blocked all other sounds, which Var thought was probably for the best. Out of the corner of his eye he could other less fortunate members of his team who hadn't reached a solid handhold being thrown about like rag dolls.

Just as he thought he was going to survive the experience unscathed, the level of shaking increased by a noticeable amount. After only a few more seconds his grip on the support column failed and he joined the others in bouncing around the madly gyrating room. As the powergrid finally came apart under the violent shaking and the room was plunged into darkness, Var's final thoughts were of Salva and their children. Were they fairing any better in Kryptonopolis than he was doing out here at the ancestral El estate?

+ - + - + - + - +

Var was barely out of the old antique warsuit when Slava flew into his arms. As it was, he scorched one of his hands on the still blistering hot armor.

"Oh, Var," Salva exclaimed as she continued to hug him so tight he thought for a moment that she had suddenly developed the strength only a Kryptonian on Earth possessed. "I thought for sure you were dead. It has been so long."

Var hugged her back and knew she wasn't far from the truth. It had taken him and the other survivors out at the estate three weeks to dig their way up from the lowest level where they had taken shelter. There certainly had been a number times where sudden cave-ins during the still ongoing quakes had nearly convinced him he wouldn't escape from there alive. But thoughts of Salva and the children had kept him from giving up.

Once the survivors had reached the main levels of the estate they had found them surprisingly intact. However the atmospheric conditions had kept them trapped there for an additional three months. And the whole time they had been unable to contact the outside world. All of the landlines of communication had been severed by the quakes. And none of the surviving radio gear had been sufficiently powerful to penetrate the heavily ionized seven hundred degree atmosphere.

Finally, after three months the air temperature had fallen a hundred fifty degrees which brought it just within the operational limits of the old warsuit. It had been a long, hard thirty mile hike through an environment which had seemed almost alien. The air was heavily filled with smoke and haze - limiting visibility to no more than ten feet. And everywhere, strange crystalline structures were sprouting that looked like nothing he had seen before.

After a long eighteen hours in the suit and countless false turns, he had finally made it to one of Kryptonopolis' airlocks. With his strength almost gone from his ordeal, he had stumbled through the lock and was just managing to extract himself from the suit when Salva and the others had arrived.

"Are Zim, Kayla, and Jor okay?" was the first thing Var asked when Salva finally loosened her grip.

"Jor is fine. We just recently started making reliable contact with Xan. Therefore I found out about a week ago that Zim and Byma are okay, too. But there hasn't been any communications with Argo City, so I don't know about Kayla."

As she spoke, Var spared a glance at the city spread out before him. Clearly several of the medium sized towers had collapsed somewhere along the way, but the famous Red Tower still stood, although he couldn't guess at its remaining structural integrity. On the whole, the city looked in better shape than he had feared.

"How are things here in the city?" Var asked.

"Not great, but all things considered, they could be worse," answered Salva, as she wove her arm in Var's and started leading him away from the airlock. "We lost seventy five thousand out of four hundred sixty thousand residents during the initial quakes – primarily due to a total collapse of the south east shelter. We have gotten most of the food production back online, but we are extremely limited for power, so no electricity in homes and we mostly get around by walking."

Seventy five thousand dead sounded like an unimaginable number, but it was far less than what Var had been expecting based on his experiences out at the estate. Out there, only forty three out of three hundred twenty six had survived.

"What about the alien ship? Has it made any further demands?" asked Var.

Salva glanced at him before responding and from long experience Var quickly recognized the hint of anger that flashed through her eyes.

"Not that I know, but then that jerk, Zod, just sits up there on Wegthor and does nothing. He doesn't send down any of the emergency medical supplies we need or the equipment we could desperately use to get our power generation systems back on-line. Hell, he barely answers our queries for information. A lot of people down are starting to curse his name."

"I am afraid the response, or lack thereof, that you are getting from Zod is probably my fault," responded Var trying to clear up the situation. "After Kandor was destroyed, overall command fell to me. I only had a couple of minutes to talk to Zod before the first quake reached the estate. I told Zod his number one priority was to ensure the survival of the race, even if it meant sacrificing the people down on the planet. I didn't want him to squander his limited resources on what might be a futile attempt to save the people down here. I had no idea at the time whether things would even stabilize down here. If anyone is to blame for Zod's behavior, it is me."

Salva looked at Var for a moment then simultaneously shook her head while tightening the arm that was wrapped around his waist. "Thanks that makes things a lot clearer. Unfortunately, I am not sure the others are going to have the same response. If Zod had just been upfront about why he wasn't sending help from the beginning, I think people would have understood and agreed. But he didn't explain and a lot of people think he is up to some kind of power-play to gain control of everything."

The further they walked from the entrance portal to the city and into the residential district where their home was located, the worse the devastation seemed to get. Trying to force a smile, Var answered. "If he is, it looks like all he is getting is a huge pile of work to rebuild his 'empire'."

Then sobering, Var continued, "Where is the radio system? The first thing I better do is get a comprehensive status of the current situation and then try to get things, including Zod, headed in the most productive direction."

Salva nodded and immediately changed the direction they were heading more towards the center of the city. "The Red Tower had to be abandoned for the present, significant cracks were discovered in its foundation and we haven't had the time or resources to get it properly shored up. In case it collapses during one of the aftershocks, everything within a one mile radius has had to be temporarily abandoned too. The remaining members of the city council are meeting in the Hall of Natural Sciences and the radios have been set up there also."

It was a fifteen minute walk to reach the Hall of Natural Sciences. Var and Salva spent the time sharing the highlights of their lives since the day the alien ship destroyed Kandor and as a side effect, most of Krypton, too.

When they reached the Hall, the first thing Var noticed was the giant flame dragon which had hung from the ceiling of the entrance hall for centuries. Now its shattered body was spread out on the floor having crushed dozens of smaller display cases which had occupied the center of the room. Its torn and disfigured head was turned towards him and as he stared at its artificial golden glass eyes, Var couldn't help but wondered if this damaged, stuffed husk of a once mighty dragon might be the last remnant of those magnificent beasts. Even flame dragons couldn't survive if the atmosphere had been seven hundred degrees for months everywhere and not just the local region around Kryptonopolis. Had any Kryptonian life survived outside the domes?

Salva led him around the left side of the flame dragon down an obviously well-trodden path through the debris. Once beyond the entrance hall, it suddenly felt to Var like they had moved back into a more traditional office environment. People were busily scurrying everywhere. And everyone seemed to be carrying sheaves of papers, but then if the power system was mostly down, it would mean most of the brains which handled much of the minutiae of modern life would be off-line, too.

Salva led Var into a large room behind the third door on the right side of the main corridor. Inside, a large conference table had been set up on the right side of the room while the left wall was filled with radio gear. A group of men and women were seated around the table and from the few Var knew by sight, he knew this must be the city's ruling council.

A loud argument had been going on between two of the more elderly members of the council when Salva and Var entered the room. But as soon as someone at the table recognized him, a hush quickly spread until silence reigned and all eyes in the room were turned in Var's direction.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentleman," began Var feeling it was probably best to act like he was definitely in charge, whether that turned out to be the case or not. Certainly, by historical precedent, his position should be dissolved as soon as the alien invader crisis was passed. He didn't yet know the status of the alien, but certainly the planetary crisis did continue to exist.

"Sorry, I have been trapped incommunicado out at my estate until now. However with the loss of Yas Blee in the destruction of Kandor, I believe I currently in charge."

After pausing for a quick breathe and to give the others in the room a moment to object if they so chose, Var continued. "Now, the first thing I need is to be brought up to speed on the current situation."

As he moved to a vacant spot at the head of the table, Var glanced over to the radio array lining the opposite wall. Pointing to the man nearest the equipment, Var asked. "Are you the radio operator? Good. Can you get Commander Zod on the line? Please do so."

It only took about thirty seconds until the single large tele-viewing screen in the room sprang to life with the image of Zod, who looked exactly the same as Var last remembered him from the brief conversation they had exchanged in the opening minutes of the crisis, now almost four months in the past.

"Tanth El, this is an unexpected surprise. After all this time I was afraid we had lost you just like we lost Warlord Blee."

Var couldn't stop a small smile from crossing his lips. He hadn't missed the hint of disappointment he saw in Zod's eyes. Perhaps Salva's assessment that Zod was in the process of making a play to take over wasn't far from the mark. Well, after being stuck out at the estate with lots of time on his hands, Var had come up with a few ideas and plans of his own. But first he needed to better understand the true situation.

"Oh, you know those of us from the house of El, we are a hard lot to kill. Now, I need a status report of the current situation. First, what is the status of the alien who started this whole mess?"

Zod seemed surprised at the swiftness Var was getting down to business, but after only a moment, he responded. "The alien is gone. He never slowed after his single pass by the planet. Within a matter of hours he was out of the planetary system. Within three days he was out of detection range, well unless we were going to keep the big grav'scope focused on him, but there didn't seem to be any point."

"So he makes a single pass, destroys one major city and then proceeds on his way. What was the point?" Var asked, thinking out loud and not really expecting a response.

"I don't think he actually destroyed Kandor, Tanth," came Zod's respond.

"What?" asked Var and his wasn't the only voice suddenly filling the council chamber.

After a few seconds of pandemonium, Var motioned the room to silence.

"Please explain, Commander," requested Var.

"I have had my people studying all the available telemetry of the event. Numerous sensors were focused on both his ship and the city when he made his closest approach and the orange beam was played over the city. Anyway, we have data from more than one source which indicate the beam playing over the city was some kind of shrinking ray. Based on the rate of shrinkage observed in the initial 0.75 seconds before the beam turned fully opaque, we project the city and the surround countryside were shrunk by a factor of somewhere between sixty thousand and one hundred twenty thousand. This would reduce the seventy five mile diameter of land missing to a diameter of four to five feet. Since there wouldn't be much point of shrinking the city to that size only to leave it to be destroyed in the ensuing volcanic activity, I surmise it was relocated to the alien ship after it had been reduced to a more convenient size for transport."

Var stared at Zod's image on the tele-screen for a minute. Shrinking an entire city to tabletop size sounded absolutely crazy at first. But the more he thought about it, the more sense it seemed to make. He had been trying for three months to figure out why the alien would attack and destroy one city and then simply leave without making any demands. But if his whole purpose was to make off with a city for some unknown reason, then things suddenly started to make a crazy sort of sense. And the devastation of the planet, which had been a simple byproduct of the theft of the capitol city, had prevented any attempt at a rescue mission until it was far too late.

"Well, Commander, I will admit at first that sounded completely crazy, but the more I think about it, the more it does seem to fit the facts of the situation. But I think we are going to have to put any pursuit of the alien and any attempts to retrieve our Kandorian citizens on the backburner until we get things taken care of here on Krypton.

"Now, Commander, what can you tell me about the status of the volcano where Kandor once stood?"

"The volcano seems to be in the process of capping itself off. Based on the trends we are seeing, it should be fully contained within the next ten to twelve days."

"That is good news, Commander," answered Var and he could feel the same sentiment circling the room based on the nods of heads.

"I am afraid there is plenty of bad news to go with it, sir. Actually, this may turn out to be more significant in the long run than the volcano."

Var wondered what new catastrophe he was about hear about. A dozen things ran through his mind, but he quickly tried to quash his imagination. Doubtlessly none of them would be correct based on his limited information at the moment.

Just then a flicker in the image on the tele-screen caught his attention. Once the new image stabilized, Mar Zod began a voice over.

"What you're looking at is a composite image of the south east portion of the Lurvan continent and the surrounding Morstil Ocean. The image was shot in the far ultraviolet portion of the spectrum to penetrate the cloud cover. The spot highlighted with the red 'X' is the volcano where the Kandor used to stand. The white area you see stretching for several hundred miles from the volcano is a crystalline structure which has completely covered the landscape. Based on lidar measurements, it averages over four miles thick."

Var suddenly remember all of the white crystals he had seen growing all along the path he had taken from the estate. None of the individual crystals he had seen had been more than twenty feet long, but they had to be related.

"What is it?" asked Var.

The image of Zod had returned to the screen, but he merely shrugged his shoulders. "I have no idea really. There is too much of it for it all to have been simply spewed up by the volcano. I am simply theorizing now, but I think the source is material brought up from deep within the planet. And whatever it is, it is reacting positively to being on the surface of the planet. It could be exposure to sunlight. Or it could be exposure to moisture. It has spread five times as fast out over the ocean as it has over land. Already the island of Xord has been completely obliterated and even Uvot is almost completely encircled. At the geometric rate it is progressing, my scientists estimate less than fifteen years until the entire planet is covered under one massive crystal structure from one to eight miles thick."

Var thought back to his meeting with the Supreme Council before his trip to Earth. He had predicted the end of the Krypton within thirty years due to either radiation or quakes. Now, they had this whole new catastrophe with almost the exact same time frame. At least this time people wouldn't be able to ignore what was right in front of their eyes. Perhaps he would finally be able to get support for his plan to evacuate the planet.

Part 3

Var forced his memories of those long ago days on Krypton to the back of his mind and made himself focus once more on the present. The youthful image of himself showing on the screen was just finishing covering the same period in Kryptonian history.

"So, was Krypton really overrun by the giant crystals?" asked Clark.

"I would guess so," answered his image on the screen. "I left Krypton for the last time about ten years after Kandor was stolen. By then the crystals had covered about twenty five percent of the planet. At the geometric rate they were progressing, they should have inundated the whole planet within fifteen years like Zod had originally predicted."

"Did the crystals force the population to retreat in front of them?"

The image of Var on the screen shook his head sadly. "No, that had been my original expectation and I thought it would force people to back my evacuation plans. However, Kryptonians are nothing if not stubborn. It took seven years for the crystals to reach the first major domed city which had survived the volcanic destruction and by then our scientists had made a surprising amount of progress in understanding the crystals. They had even achieved a limited amount of control, enabling them to force the crystals to grow around and over the city's dome without destroying it.

"As a result of this success, people started to believe they could survive this incursion of crystal," concluded the image of Var.

"So how did you end up back here on Earth?" asked Clark.

The screen Var's response didn't initially seem to be a direct response to Clark's question. "I, too, had been doing research on the crystals. 99.999 percent of the crystals were clear or white. The remaining 0.001 percent consisted of a variety of different crystals. It is probably simplest to refer to these trace elements by their primary colors. The next most plentiful type of crystal after clear white was green."

Clark couldn't help but think about the green stones scattered around Smallville – the stones which had nearly killed him on numerous occasions. There definitely was a crystalline structure to the green bits where they typically protruded from the surrounding black rock.

"Are the green meteor rocks, which arrived in Smallville at the same time I did as a small child, truly tiny fragments of Krypton?"

"Yes. And not only are the green variety present in Smallville, they are merely the most plentiful and obvious. I have had to work second and third hand and be careful not to upset the timeloop, but I have managed to collect a fairly extensive sample of meteor rocks and I have found most of the major types to be present – red, black, blue, pink, silver, and gold."

Clark looked surprised. "There are more than one kind of meteor rocks? I have never seen any of the others."

The image of Var on the screen nodded. "The others are extremely rare compared to the green. Red is the next most plentiful and there is at least a thousand times more green than red. And some of the others are more than a thousand times rarer than the red."

Clark looked lost in thought for a moment. "Close proximity to the green meteor rocks seems to strip away most of my special abilities. Well, more than that, it makes me as weak as an eighty year old man with Parkinson's. Do the other varieties have the same effect?"

Var's image shrugged. "I don't know for certain, but I would guess they will have different effects. At least based on my limited personal experience, I know the gold variety doesn't just temporarily strip your powers, but permanently removes them. Or at least that is what seems to have happened to me. As to the other colors, I have no idea. My powers were stripped away at the moment I returned to Earth. So, none of the various kinds of meteor rocks have any more effect on me now than they do on normal humans."

The youthful Var on the screen paused for a moment before continuing. "You know, Clark, we need to find a better name for them than meteor rocks."

"Ever since you first told me about Krypton on your ship, I have sort of been calling them Kryptonite in my head," answered Clark.

"Kryptonite," repeated Var. "I guess that is as good of name as any."

"Var," continued Clark to get their conversation back on track. "You said contact with gold Kryptonite permanently stripped away your special abilities and that it happened at the moment you returned to Earth. How could you have run into it then? The meteor rocks which arrived with me wouldn't have been here until years and years later."

"Well, that brings us back to your earlier question – how did I end up here," began Var, as he launched into the next portion of his story. "In the months that followed my return to Kryptonopolis from the family estate, we slowly managed to bring our civilization back from the brink of destruction caused by the theft of Kandor. Oh, many things changed like the underground mag-lev system needing to be permanently abandoned, but we got all of the power grids back on-line, the damage to the cities was repaired, and people got on with their lives.

"After six months, it was apparent civilization was going to survive and Brainiac or whoever it was that controlled his ship wasn't going to return, so I stepped down from my post as temporary Warlord of Krypton and returned to my research. With the steadily accelerating pace at which the crystals were engulfing the world, it was more obvious to me than ever that I needed to find a way to quickly evacuate Krypton's millions of citizens when they, too, finally saw the threat I had long recognized.

"Even before the events involving Kandor, I had already come to realize I needed a different method of transportation than the ship I had used for my first trip to Earth. When the end did finally come for Krypton, there probably wouldn't be time to build the massive fleet of ships required to transport tens of millions of people. No, what I needed was something more along the lines of the device you had used for time travel. A device which could open a stable portal in city centers where people could stream quickly through.

"However, I ran into what seemed like an insurmountable problem. My calculations showed the power required to hold the wormhole open was way beyond anything we could generate. Now since you never mentioned the need for incredible amounts of power, and my numbers indicated needing to harness almost ten percent of the output of the sun, I knew you, or rather Chloe had discovered a way around my power dilemma."

"Kryptonite," exclaimed Clark. "I think Kryptonite is the secret Chloe discovered."

"Yeah, Clark, Kryptonite is the secret. And just so you can appreciate the true convoluted nature of this timeloop, I am the one who gave Chloe the necessary hint about using Kryptonite. So your initial trip back to Rome and then your trip back to Germany were both really part of the same loop. I wouldn't know about the possibility of wormhole travel until I meet you, and Chloe wouldn't know about the importance of Kryptonite in the process until I, in turn, secretly passed the word to her.

"Anyway even knowing an answer had to exist, it still took me almost ten years to work out that the crystals were a big part of the solution. In fact, it wasn't until some of the other scientists started to identify some of the crystal's unique properties and then managed to redirect its growth to encompass cities without destroying them that I turned my own research in their direction. After months of work, I was able to get the desired interaction between the Kryptonite and the wormhole. With green Kryptonite, I was able to open a stable wormhole from one side of Krypton to the other while using an acceptable amount of power, no more than the power required to light up twenty square blocks in the city center. However I still had significant power limitations when trying to achieve interstellar distances."

Clark thought back to the conversation he had had with Chloe on the evening of his return from ancient Rome. She had explained how she was building a fusion powerplant under the old Creekside Foundry. If what Var was saying was true, would the fusion power source really be sufficient to reach all the way to Krypton? Although if what Var was saying about the planet's future was true, there might no longer be anywhere to open the far end of the portal.

But then a small smile graced Clark's lips. If the planet was truly gone, they could just use the time-travel feature to open a portal at a time shortly before his own childhood departure from the planet. For in truth, what he was most interested in seeing on Krypton was not the planet, but his own parents.

"Would a fusion power source be sufficient to power the portal device for a trip from here to Krypton?" asked Clark eagerly.

The image of Var on the screen froze, not quite like a person deep in thought, but more like someone had hit the 'Pause' button on a DVD player. After nothing happened for at least fifteen seconds, it was the real Var in the wheel chair who responded.

"Chloe has . . . a working fusion . . . power source?" asked Var. Var was a little surprised by this information although he knew he shouldn't be. Lizzy, as he had long known Chloe and still tended to think of her, did always play things close to the chest. And truthfully, in the quarter of a century they had known each other they had only met face-to-face five times. So she didn't have any reason to trust him with all of the details of what she was doing. Of course that sort of went both ways. He had never divulged his true background or his knowledge of the Portal device being her ultimate goal. No, they had almost been playing a game where they occasionally dangled a small technological advance in front of the other.

He hadn't had any idea she was working on fusion power, but she had her fingers in so many pots, it wasn't surprising she was working to advance the state of the art in power sources, too. He had made discreet inquiries over the years since he had known her and his best guess was roughly thirty-five percent of all R&D work on the entire planet, both military and civilian, was either being funded or at least guided by her. It staggered even his powerful mind how one person could be actively controlling things on so many fronts. But then from what Clark had said about the computer power of her nanobot system, it seemed vaguely understandable, particularly since she had been planning this for almost two thousand years.

Clark response almost seemed like an interruption to Var's musings.

"Well, the first fusion generator has been powered up for about two weeks. It will be a couple of months before the other two primary units and three backup units will all be tested and ready. Plus the big, long range Portal device should be finished around the same time," answered Clark. It had been difficult to tell with Var's strange speaking cadence and the minimal changes of his facial expression, but Var had seemed to have been surprised by this information. And something at the back of Clark's head said it seemed like more than just that he was surprised that Chloe had achieved it. No, it seemed like he was surprised she had been able to achieve it at all. "Var, did you have fusion power back on Krypton?"

After a few seconds pause, Var responded. "No, Clark, . . . Krypton had a rich . . . supply of Uranium, . . . so fission power sources . . . and drive units . . . for spaceships . . were cheap and easily . . . available. . . . Plus anti-gravity . . . greatly reduced . . . the need for . . . powerful energy . . . sources."

"So will Chloe's machine be able to reach Krypton?" asked Clark.

"Possibly," was Var's succinct answer.

"You said your device only had sufficient range to reach intercontinental targets not interstellar ones. So how did you reach Earth?"

"Computer," began Var, "Reinitialize program at . . . Clark One Beta."

After a three second pause the image on the screen suddenly became unfrozen. "Sorry about that, Clark," the image of Var said, once again more fluidly than the wheel-chair bound Var could. "Could you repeat your question?"

"I was wondering how you got here, if your Kryptonite powered device only had intercontinental range."

"Green Kryptonite only gave intercontinental ranges with a reasonable amount of power. However after further experimentation, I discovered the extremely rare gold Kryptonite was much more powerful. With even less power than the green needed to reach the other side of the planet, the gold could reach up to four hundred lightyears."

"So you just opened a wormhole to Earth and stepped through? And the gold Kryptonite in the wormhole then stripped away your powers?" asked Clark. With his curiosity about Var's present physical condition getting the better of him, he added. "How did you end up in the wheelchair? A later accident?"

The image of Var on the screen shook his head. Clark knew it was just a computer simulation, but couldn't miss the sudden sadness in its expression.

"No, Clark, it all happened at the same time."

"How could stepping throw the wormhole land you in the chair?" repeated Clark.

"I didn't step through the wormhole, unfortunately. I flew through it," began Var. "I needed a way to send a retrieval signal and I couldn't come up with anything as compact as your phone device. So I built a special ship which could pass through the wormhole to act as a portable signaling device. Oh, it was nothing like the original ship you saw, relative to that it was tiny. It could carry two people sitting in tandem, but was hardly bigger than a fully enclosed motorcycle would be.

"I probably didn't need to design it to fly since I knew I could just fly myself once I was back on Earth, but I thought I might need some bargaining chips to put on the table when I started negotiations with the leaders of the United States. And this time I didn't want to reveal my special abilities, if I could avoid it."

Var had just laid a lot of information on the table, but the thing that stuck in Clark's head was the comment about his new ship's ability to carry two people – perhaps it was the sadness in Var's voice.

"Var, was someone else with you when you journeyed back to Earth?"

For a moment it looked like the image of Var on the screen wasn't going to respond. Clark glanced over at the real Var and saw tears glistening in his eyes. Then the one on the wall began to speak softly.

"I should have made a test run before bringing her," he seemed to mumble quietly before looking up in Clark's direction. "Salva, my wife, was with me. She was the only one to whom I had told everything. I had been afraid if word got out about our abilities here, the wrong sort of people would get involved. So I only told her.

"My original purpose, when I first came to Earth back in 1936, had been to secure a new home of the people of Krypton. However the problems with my ship had sidetracked me during that initial trip. But after dealing with the Nazis and seeing the way they had tried to sabotage my ship, I realized I was okay as a scientist, but terribly lacking as a negotiator. However Salva had been running the El family businesses for years and they had been prospering more than they had in centuries; she would be far more adept than me at the task of dealing with governments and politicians.

"Salva agreed to join me on the trip since our children were now all grown and leading lives of their own. I had thought the risk of bringing her along was minimal, I mean we were supposed to be impervious to danger here.

"Tragically, that wasn't the case. The wormhole opened only a hundred feet above the ground and it should have been a simple matter of touching down safely. But the interaction of the gold Kryptonite in the wormhole with the Earth's yellow sun caused a physical reaction in our bodies beyond anything I had ever imagined. You mentioned how green Kryptonite makes you feel like you are eighty with Parkinson's. Well, try amplifying that by a factor of a thousand. As we exited the wormhole, my limbs were gyrating around madly and I quickly lost control of the ship. We hadn't been moving fast, but diving straight down from a mere hundred feet was enough to shatter the ship."

Clark had seen enough footage down through the years of light plane crashes to imagine the wreckage of Var's tiny ship and also what it would have done to his body. He already suspected what he was going to hear about Salva's fate, but had to ask to know for certain and to clear the air. "And Salva?"

The image of Var paused for a few seconds and Clark was afraid it was crashing like it had earlier. But then it seemed to take a deep breath. "I was unconscious for months and when I finally awoke in the hospital of a secret military base, I was in the condition you see before you. I was badly hurt and didn't have any special gifts, but they had been able to tell from the wreckage that I wasn't from around here. You have probably even heard about my crash – Roswell, July 1947?"

Clark numbly nodded his head. "Who hasn't heard the stories about Roswell? Hell, I even borrowed some of the highlights for one of the stories I had to spin out for Hank. The crash of an alien spaceship. The cover up about weather balloons. The bodies being kept at a secret base. Oh . . ." Clark's voice petered out as he realized what he had just said.

"Yeah, I was little more than a body and they had possession of Salva's body for years. It wasn't until well after I managed to escape that I finally was able to retrieve her body and give her the proper burial she deserved."

Clark looked from the image on the screen in front of him to the broken man sitting in the wheelchair beside him. He found it impossible to imagine what the past fifty plus years had been like for Var. The pain. The loneliness. His wife dead, the remainder of his family unreachable, hundreds of lightyears away. Clark wondered if he could have survived what Var had gone through.

But then he remembered some of the seemingly impossible things he had witnessed since that first passage through the portal device on his way to ancient Rome. In particular his mind was drawn to the memory of events and discussions when they had first returned to the present and Chloe had led them into the room where Lex and Lana's resurrected parents had waited. Chloe had used the time travel device to retrieve their parents within moments of their respective deaths. And since the events on the Nazi battleship where Whitney had ended up dead, he had continually hoped Chloe would be able to retrieve Whitney in the same way. So why not try for the same thing with Var's wife?

Clark was about to mention this possibility to Var, when the other part of Whitney's situation sank in. They would not only need to retrieve Whitney from the past, but also Chloe was going to have to do her nanobot magic if Whitney was to come out of his predicament healthy and alive. A simple exchange of blood was all Chloe or Lana needed to introduce 'bots into someone's body. That had seemed impossible with a Kryptonian like himself or Var, but suddenly he wondered if things had now changed for Var. With all the tubes he could see penetrating Var's arms and throat, could Chloe's 'bots also enter his body and repair its damage? Clark knew Kryptonians were descended from the humans of seventeen thousand years ago, but he had no idea what genetic changes had been imposed to make it possible for them to survive and thrive on Krypton. He decided it would be prudent to talk to Chloe before mentioning it to Var, but at least he felt a glimmer of hope he might one day see Var restored to the healthy body he remembered from 1936.

However saving Salva might not require Chloe's 'bots, but merely her time machine. And since Var was fully aware of the capabilities of Chloe's device, putting a positive spin on the conversation felt like the right thing to do.

"Var, I think we may be able to save Salva using the time travel aspects of the Portal."

Var's eyes were still filled with tears from his revelation of the circumstances of his wife's death. After a few seconds he responded, but his voice was suddenly thicker and raspier than could be attributed to the effects of the respirator. "Clark, I have . . . dreamed . . . of the same . . . thing many times. . . during the last . . . fifty years. . . . But I saw . . . her remains. . . when I . . . buried her. . . . It was . . . definitely her."

"I have no idea how to accomplish it at the moment, Var. But I think we need to discuss it with Chloe once we have restored her. I mean she managed to save my friend Lana's parents from certain death a millisecond before a street full of people thought they saw them killed by a major meteor strike. And she also managed to save my friend Lex's mother after everyone thought she had died. From my experience, Chloe is capable of functioning on an entirely different mental plane than anyone else. If there is anyway of saving your wife, I am sure Chloe can find it."

Var blinked at the tears filling his eyes, which was one of the few aspects of his body still under his conscious control. He had thought a lot in the early years about how to use time travel to save his wife. But as the decades passed, it had faded to little more than a dream. But now Clark's words or perhaps his youthful enthusiasm sparked a little more hope in Var. If Lizzy had been able to achieve the things Clark had said with the time machine, perhaps it might be possible. And with what he knew of her capabilities, if Clark asked her to throw most of her attention at the task, she might come up with some solution he had never explored.

"Thank you, Clark. . . Perhaps you are . . . right and . . . your friend, Chloe. . . can find a . . .solution I . . . have not foreseen."

Var paused and Clark wasn't sure if he was finished speaking or merely pausing to catch his breath. When Var started speaking again, he suddenly moved the conversation in a direction Clark hadn't been expecting.

"But she can . . . not do us . . . any good until . . . you rescue her. . . So it is . . . time to talk about . . . preparing you."

"Preparing me?" echoed Clark not knowing what Var was talking about.

"When I traveled . . . from Krypton . . . this time . . . I came prepared . . . just in case . . . I ran into you . . . again. . . The device . . . was heavily damaged . . . during the crash . . . and I have . . . had to jury-rig . . . some of the . . . components, but . . . it is ready."

"What device, Var? What are you talking about?"

"The device which . . . performs the Purl . . . Nous procedure. . . . The procedure that . . . activates all of . . . your Kryptonian mental . . . abilities."

Purl Nous -- for a moment Clark drew a blank at the term. Then bits and pieces of their very first conversation came back. Purl Nous was a procedure performed on Kryptonian youths during their sixteenth year. It somehow activated a huge array of dormant neural pathways already present in their brains. And with these additional active circuits, their memory and thought processes were significantly enhanced.

Clark was about to ask Var to fill in at least a few of the gaping holes in his knowledge on this topic when they were interrupted by a middle-aged woman in the typical modern day nurse's uniform of green cotton scrubs.

"Doctor Swann," she began. "You know you are passed due for your next meal and how risky such behavior is to your health."

"Yes, Mildred," responded Var. Then as he turned his chair to follow the woman out, he commented. "Clark, we can . . . continue this . . . conversation after . . . we eat."

Clark felt like he had a thousand questions; each one burning to get out. But he had no idea how much this 'Mildred' knew and didn't feel it was his place to risk exposing their numerous secrets. So he was trapped into just quietly following along as they left Var's work area behind and headed back in the direction from which the nurse had come. However while he couldn't say anything out loud, he couldn't stop his mind from racing ahead. And where it kept racing to was the description from his mother of what had happened to Lex, as the powerful beam of light had played across his face in what looked to be an extremely painful manner before eventually hoisting his body effortlessly into the air. He couldn't help but wonder if that was the normal reaction to receiving the treatment back on Krypton. And he wondered at what his own reaction would be, as surely no one had ever undergone the procedure while graced with his incredible strength, speed, and other abilities. He shuddered to think what might happen if it involuntarily triggered his heat vision. Would he destroy the device before it completed its task? Might he destroy the whole facility?

Part Four

The highly customized Boeing 727 jet taxied straight through the open doorway of the hangar. Before the three tail engines had completely spooled down, the built-in rear exit ramp was already descending towards the concrete floor.

As Clark walked down the ramp, he suddenly remembered the famous story of D.B. Cooper, who back in the 1970s had committed the only unsolved skyjacking in U.S. history. Cooper had used the rear exit of a similar 727, the only Boeing jet to have one as standard equipment, to parachute from the jet in mid-flight. Cooper had never been heard from again and neither his body nor parachute had ever been found.

The late night flight from New York to New Mexico had been Clark's first ever flight in a normal airplane. But after traveling from Germany to America in Var's incredible ship and given his own unique flying abilities, it had been rather anti-climatic. Hell, he could duplicate Cooper's famous escape and he didn't even need the parachute. And knowing he could have covered the two thousand mile cross-country distance in mere seconds by dipping deep into the 'speed zone', the three and a half hour flight had seemed like such a waste of time. But Var could no longer fly at his side, and given the level of support Var now required merely to survive, simply carrying him had been out of the question, too.

He had tried to catch some sleep during the flight after having gone almost non-stop for days back in 1936 Nazi Germany and knowing today was going to bring fresh trials, but sleep had been hard to come by. It was now less than thirty-six hours until the events in his parents' storm cellar would play out all over again. This time he had to find some way to save Lex and Chloe before the time loop started all over again. And that was what had left him tossing and turning on the narrow cot in the small sleeping chamber he had been using on the jet. How was he going to save Chloe and Lex? He still didn't have the faintest idea. From seeing Chloe's video message in the device he had gone back to 1936 to find, he knew he would find the way. But it sure would have been nice if Chloe had given him a more specific clue than just 'Talk to Doctor Swann'. Now he could only hope this 'Purl Nous' procedure would somehow trigger the answer.

Clark reached the bottom of the ramp and looked out through the hangar doors. The sun was just rising over the horizon. At this early hour and with just the right atmospheric conditions present, the sun's leading edge had a startlingly red hue. For just a moment, Clark wondered if this was what the sun on Krypton had looked like. But then he realized the sky was shading from pink to the traditional light blue rather then the pale green he had seen in the paintings and other images on Var's ship.

One of Var's attendants guided his chair down the exit ramp behind Clark. Then he turned without pausing towards the van approaching the halted jet from the left. Quickly, Clark followed. As he got further from the heated air surrounding the jet's engines, Clark could start to sense the crispness of the desert air. However from what Var had told him during their journey out, the cool night air wouldn't last long and by noon the temperatures would be brushing one hundred degrees.

Once Var's chair was secured aboard the van, and the private nurse and the two other attendants/bodyguards had taken their seats, the van pulled smoothly out of the hangar. Immediately, Clark could see the mountains to the north where the desert stopped and the relatively lush, quasi-Alpine terrain began. From the maps he had seen on the jet, he knew it would be an easy fifty mile jog through those hills to reach the historic town of Los Alamos.

Clark had been surprised when Var had told him the facility where the device was housed was in New Mexico. He would have thought New Mexico would have had too many bad memories and possibilities of danger for Var to return. But Var had simply stated that the former military base he had acquired had been a steal when the cold war was winding down. And as far as dangers, well, he and the government had long since reached an understanding. Clark had wondered about the terms of this arrangement and he also had wondered how a quadriplegic trapped in a wheelchair had escaped from a secret military base, but Var had pointedly not gone into any details.

From the airstrip they drove for over twenty minutes until they had passed through the first set of foothills. The road was wide and obviously designed to handle a lot of traffic, but this morning they didn't see another vehicle. As they rounded a final curve, Clark could see the road ahead disappeared into a large opening cut into the side of a hill. A quick glance with his x-ray vision revealed giant blast doors like those always seen in footage of the NORAD command facility buried under Cheyenne Mountain up in Colorado. Whatever the original purpose of this facility, it was clearly intended to ride out a nuclear exchange.

Turning his gaze deeper into the hill, Clark could see this highest level was primarily fitted-out as a parking structure for three or four hundred cars. Obviously someone was trying to hide them from 'eye in the sky' satellites, but to Clark the major road dead-ending in the side of a mountain would have been just as much of a give-away as a parking lot full of cars in the middle of nowhere.

Refocusing his eyes for 'normal' vision, Clark leaned forward in his seat to read the words inscribed above the entrance to the underground facility. "Daghlian Test Site" was what he read. The name 'Daghlian' felt vaguely familiar, but he couldn't quite place it.

Looking back over his shoulder to Var, Clark asked. "The name 'Daghlian' feels like it is on the tip of my tongue, but I can't seem to force it out. Who or what is it?"

"Clark," began Var in a voice which would be barely audible to a normal human over the sound of the van's engine and the roar of its tires on a concrete roadway leading into mountain. "Things being on . . . the tip of . . . your tongue . . . won't be a . . . problem soon . . . Anyway, Harry Daghlian, Jr. was . . . the first scientist . . . on the Manhattan . . Project to die . . . from radiation poisoning . . . after an accident in the lab."

While Var paused briefly to catch his breath, Clark thought he could recall more of the story. But then he wasn't certain if he was remembering it from something he had read in school or if it was just a scene from one of the numerous movies about the development of the A-bomb. If, as Var seemed to be implying, he would have near perfect recall after the procedure, it might turn out to be useful - and for more important things then old movie trivia.

"Was this a nuclear test facility before you acquired it?" asked Clark.

"Yes . . . they set off . . . numerous deep . . . underground . . . weapons here in . . . the fifties and . . . early sixties."

By now they were passing through the underground parking structure. It had space for hundreds of cars, but at the moment it only had five private vehicles and half a dozen vans and pickups with 'K-Star Research & Development, Inc.' logos on their doors. Their own matching van pulled passed all of the parked vehicles before stopping in front of a large freight elevator. Immediately the two male attendants were up and working to release the locks holding Var's wheelchair in place and then wheeling him out.

Clark jumped down from the front passenger seat and followed the others to the large elevator. The van's driver walked up to the control panel beside the elevator and then raising his keychain, he unlocked what looked like a relatively new cover plate and pressed a normal-looking 'down' button. At once the giant door slid up into the ceiling, revealing an elevator the van could have easily driven into.

Inside, the elevator had a series of buttons with the numbers on the labels getting large the lower Clark looked rather than getting larger towards the top as with most elevators. The driver pressed the lowest button, a '12'. This control panel didn't require any security keys like the panel in the parking garage, but then Clark realized the other panel was designed to keep people out, while this one assumed if you were already inside then you must belong. He didn't remember seeing any security guards on the drive in. So either they were well hidden or they simply weren't there. Perhaps Var was trying to keep an extremely low profile about this site's existence or its purpose and minimized things to just a few surveillance cameras.

As though reading Clark's mind, Var said, "I primarily use . . . this facility for . . . storage. The constant . . . temperature and . . . low humidity is . . . ideal for paper . . . records. . . It has turned . . . into a profitable . . . venture."

The elevator growled along for almost ninety seconds. It didn't feel very fast, but they were definitely going deeper than just the twelfth story of an inverted building. Using his x-ray vision, Clark estimated the first level was down about seventy-five feet. The further levels were separated by about thirty feet on average, sometimes more and sometimes less. The first level they passed had been the largest with rooms and corridors stretching for hundreds of feet in all directions. The other levels varied in size from no more than a few rooms to spaces with twenty-five to thirty rooms.

When the elevator halted and its large door lifted up into the ceiling, Clark stared down a long passageway roughly twenty feet wide by fifteen high. As he stepped out of the elevator, he found himself in a large alcove with similar looking elevators occupying the two side walls. But what held his gaze was the passage directly in front of them. It was lit by a long, long row of naked bulbs. Even zooming with his powerful vision, he couldn't see the end. The passage had to extend straight ahead for miles.

Before he could ask, Var stated. "The passage extends . . . just over two . . . miles to the valley . . . beyond the mountain . . . That is where . . . the old atomic . . . tests were . . . conducted . . . Fortunately . . . we do not . . . have to travel . . . nearly that far."

One of the attendants began to push Var's chair down the long passage. They walked about three hundred feet before stopping at a door recessed into the right wall. The main passage had felt old to Clark. From the stains on the floor and the bits and pieces of concrete crumbling from the walls, it was easy to believe it had been there for fifty or sixty years, if not longer. But when he looked at the doorway in the wall, it looked a lot newer. Perhaps it was simply the different color of the concrete and the way it had been feathered into the existing wall, but he had a strong sense it wasn't much more than five to ten years old.

Next to the door was a small control panel with several buttons, lights, and a microphone on a cord that looked a lot like the one on the CB radio in his father's oldest pickup. The man who had been pushing Var's wheelchair stepped up to the panel, flipped one of the switches, and then pulled the microphone from its catch and held it down in front of Var's face.

After the man push the 'talk' button on the microphone's side and gave a small nod of his head, Var spoke more slowly than was normal even for him. "Victor . . . Swann."

After a wait of no more than three seconds, one of the red lights on the control panel went off and a green one took its place. Then with a hiss and a metallic grinding sound that was eerily similar to the sound bank vaults always made when opening in old James Bond movies, the heavy door began to swing outward. Clark was a little surprised to see it was over a foot thick.

When the door stopped moving, they all proceeded through into a shorter fifty foot corridor which was blocked at its far end by another door. They passed through three more of the equally spaced massive steel doors, although only the first one had utilized the voice recognition lock, before finally reaching their destination.

The room, carved from the native granite found here in the mountain's roots, was roughly square with sides of about thirty feet in length. Its sole features were an electronic apparatus hanging from the center of the ceiling and directly below it what looked like a funerary bier carved from a solid block of titanium.

"Please wait . . . outside," ordered Var to others who had made the trek down here with them.

The two male attendants immediately turned towards the room's solitary exit, but the nurse instead stepped closer to Var. She spent almost two minutes checking Var and his support equipment over. Before heading to the door, she told Var, in a tone that said she would brook no opposition, that he had ten minutes before she would be back.

As soon as the door was closed, Var began to speak. "Clark, the Purl Nous . . . procedure has never . . . been attempted on . . . someone with . . . your gifts . . . Typically, youths are . . . restrained during the . . . process . . . However . . . I don't know . . . what will . . . restrain you . . . I thought about . . . using green Kryptonite."

At the mention of green Kryptonite Clark vehemently shook his head 'no'.

"I thought . . . that would be . . . your feeling . . . Therefore the best . . . I could do . . . is this block . . . of titanium . . . buried . . . deep in this . . . mountain . . . It has handholds . . . deep inside . . . and maybe it . . . will help."

Var paused for a few seconds, as though to gather his strength to continue.

"The process forces . . . tons of data . . . directly into your . . . mind . . . I have replaced . . . some of the . . . more esoteric . . . knowledge about . . . Krypton . . . which will have . . . little value for . . . you here . . . with knowledge of . . . all the major . . . Earth languages.

"Now, go lay atop . . . the pedestal . . . please," requested Var.

Clark moved over to the center of the room with some trepidation. His strength might make him physically invulnerable, but nothing Var had said had done anything to calm his nerves. No, the fact Var felt it was necessary to locate the device under hundreds of feet of solid rock certainly indicated he expected a violent reaction from Clark. But Clark knew he didn't have any real choice but to go through with it. Hopefully, it would provide some solution to the situation with Chloe and Lex.

After stretching out on his back on top of the block of titanium, Clark found the two deep recesses for his arms. As he was about to lower his arms in, Var spoke again.

"You will find . . . hand grips at . . . the bottoms of the . . . recesses . . . Also in the right . . . recess you will . . . find a button . . . near your index . . . finger . . . Pressing the button . . . will initiate the . . . process . . . Please wait until . . . you see the . . . green light . . . above your head . . . which will indicate . . . the rest of . . . us have . . . retreated . . . to the upper . . . level.

"Are you ready . . . Clark?" asked Var without further preamble.

Clark sat back up and looked across at Var. "Ah, I think so," he began. "Well, I have one unrelated question. It has been on my mind for the past few hours, but this is the first time we have been alone."

"What is . . . your question?"

"Well, back in 1936 you had to have been around forty years, ah, earth years old. That's over sixty years ago, which should make you around one hundred. Yet other than your physical impairments, you don't look more than a few years older. How is that possible?"

"'The average Kryptonian . . . life expectancy is . . . about two hundred . . . twenty Earth . . . years . . . I may have . . . lost my special . . . gifts . . . but not my . . . hereditary gifts . . . So . . . I have spent . . . over fifty years . . . in this chair . . . and might have . . . another hundred . . . years to look . . . forward to."

Although Var's voice normally came out as little more than a monotone, on this occasion Clark could pick up the undertones of various emotions ranging from anger to self-pity. Clark found himself tempted to tell Var about his hopes that Chloe could help him, but once again he bit his tongue. After Var's comments about Kryptonian lifespans, he wasn't sure if Kryptonian DNA was similar enough for Chloe's 'bots to perform their magic.

Finally, deciding not to be too specific, Clark responded. "A hundred years is a long time. With the rate at which technology is advancing, perhaps a solution to get you out of the chair will be found sometime soon."

"I hope you . . . are right . . . Clark . . . I have really . . . come to hate . . . being trapped . . . here . . . Now any other . . . questions before . . . we proceed?"

Clark took one last look at Var and then shook his head. "No, let's do it." He was surprised how calm his voice sounded as his stomach was churning more than he could remember at any time since the computer virus or whatever had attacked Chloe and left her body helplessly spasming in his arms.

"Good luck . . . Clark," said Var quietly before turning the wheelchair towards the room's exit.

Just as Var's wheelchair reached the door, Clark remembered the contents of the pocket of his blazer. It was hard to believe it was only the day before that he had been involved in the Olympic parade of athletes during the opening ceremonies in Berlin. But the official American Olympic blazer and slacks he was still wearing was proof.

"Wait, Var," called Clark as he jumped back down from the pedestal and jogged over. When he reached his wheelchair-bound friend, he pulled the sheath of photos from his pocket. "Could you hold these for me, in case things down here get . . . ah, wonky?"

"Certainly, Clark," answered Var.

After Clark dropped them in Var's lap, the older man wordlessly continued through the open doorway. As soon as he was clear, Clark pulled the heavy door closed and walked back over to the central pedestal.

Once Clark was seated back on top of the pedestal, his eyes turned back towards the passageway. Clark's vision seemed to automatically shift to x-ray mode has he watched Var's party pass through and close the other heavy security doors. As the group started their trek back to the elevator, Clark forced himself to look away and to revert his vision back to normal.

Laying down flat, Clark slid his arms down into the slots Var had provided. At the bottom were handholds almost three inches in diameter. He closed his hands firmly around them and felt the cold metal begin to warm at the contact with his flesh. He knew if he put his mind to it, he could easily rip the handholds free and he was sure Var knew that, too. So perhaps their real purpose was to give him something to focus on. Could he keep part of his mind focused on not tearing them out? He had no idea, but it seemed worth a try.

He took a deep breath and then let it out slowly. Then another. Rather than let his anxiety take control, he tried to think about happy times. After a few moments he settled on the first day he, Chloe, Lex, and Lana had spent in ancient Rome, the day they had first arrived at Chloe's estate. Or more specifically the time he and Chloe had spent bathing each other in the pool in the solarium room with its giant stained glass windows depicting a truly ancient Egypt.

It felt like his thoughts had only drifted languidly for a few seconds when the small green light in the ceiling next to the overhead device began to glow. Was it time to begin the procedure already? It seemed like his memory of events in the pool had barely reached their first passionate kiss.

Shaking his head slightly to clear thoughts of ancient Rome, Clark felt around with his right index finger until he found the button which would trigger the device. Trying not to give himself too much time to think, he firmly pressed the button.

It seemed to him like the brilliant white beam of light almost instantly extended down from the device and pounded against his forehead as though it was backed by a hundred pound sledge hammer. His head was thrown back from its slightly raised position with so much force he heard something crack. He barely had time to hope it was the titanium pedestal and not his head before the first image exploded in his mind.

But calling it an image was completely inadequate, it wasn't like an image seen on TV or projected on a movie screen. It wasn't even like seeing an image in true three dimensions. No, it was like seeing an image in four or maybe five or six dimensions all at once. Perhaps it was most like a hologram which stored a thousand, no a million images in the space of one. For that single image contained the complete history of the House El. From the vague, fragmentary data on Erok-El, the original unifier of Krypton, through the more detailed knowledge of Hatu-El, who had defeated the alien Vrang race, all the way to the gloriously detailed information of Var-El and his family.

As Clark's mind was still trying to cope with the wealth of data incorporated in that single image, the next image impacted his mind. This was another five or six dimensional array of data only this time is was all things related to the German language. For an instant it felt like Clark could grasp everything there was to know about the language from simple things like how to read a menu to complex things like how to speak like a native in every local dialect.

But just a moment before it had completely gelled, the next image overrode it and his mind was filled with a sea of equations related to the life-cycle of stars from the coalescence of a loose cloud of interstellar dust through the initial ignition point to its final death, be it brown dwarf, neutron star, or black hole.

Again while true understanding seemed just beyond his grasp, the next image filled with data exploded into his mind. And then the next and the next and the next. As Clark's mind tried to adjust, his subconscious started to force his body into 'speed mode' to give it more time to absorb the images. But Var must have anticipated this, as the images came faster and faster.

Soon Clark's body was deeper in the speed zone than he had ever been, deeper even than the time he had spun the mighty drive shaft of Var's ship. The images were now hitting his mind a million times a second and still they seemed to accelerate.

After nearly a minute, and due to his unique gifts being forced to receive thousands of times more images than any Kryptonian before him, Clark's mind reached the desired overload state. The trillions of extra neural pathways created during the gestation process began to activate.

And as his mind tried to adjust, every muscle in his body spasmed. Instantly, his arms shattered the titanium pedestal on which he was lying.

Then his heat vision kicked in with an intensity beyond anything he had ever experienced. The process had forced his gaze to be straight up and therefore the first thing that happened was all of the exposed equipment above him instantly vaporized. Then his gaze reached the granite ceiling, but the heatsinking capability of hundreds of feet of solid rock kept it from vaporizing. Instead it merely melted and began to flow down. While the area directly above Clark's eyes remained completely clear of molten rock due to the power of his heat vision, it dripped and then poured down on the rest of his body. In a fraction of a second his clothing burned away. It took only a couple of seconds more for the remains of the titanium pedestal to also begin to melt.

As his mind continued to adjust to all of its new interconnections and the storehouse of new knowledge, his body continued to thrash and spasm. Without the support of the pedestal, his body now twisted and turned and his powerful heat vision swept in a variety of random directions, but always melting everything in its path. Within twenty seconds of the activation of his heat vision, Clark's body was floating in the center of a roughly spherical mass of molten rock over fifty feet in diameter.

- + - + - +

Var sat in the special monitoring room he had installed on level 1 of the underground facility. Everything was voice activated so none of the employees who were here with him needed to be in the room. Some of them had been with him for many years, but none of them knew everything nor would understand what was going on with Clark down on level 12. No, if they had been monitoring the readouts in this room, they would most likely have guessed the Var was testing some new exotic weapon system. And they certainly wouldn't have believed a man could survive down there.

Based on his own long ago passage through Purl Nous and his experience with Kryptonian abilities on Earth during his initial sojourn back in Nazi Germany, he had tried to extrapolate what would happen during Clark's rite of passage. He had thought Clark's present location was sufficiently removed to safeguard the rest of the facility, but now he wasn't so sure. Perhaps he should have located him at the far end of the tunnel in the next valley over where all the old nuclear tests had been performed. But then there would have been the added unknown of Clark's interaction with all of the residual radioactive material.

Var had equipped the Purl Nous chamber with numerous cameras and sensors to monitor events during the procedure. Unfortunately, none of them had lasted very long. He saw the initial beam of light reach down and touch Clark's forehead. One of his displays showed the cumulative number of images projected into the boy's mind. He had recalibrated the Purl Nous device to automatically adjust for Clark's highly accelerated abilities, but never expected the results he was seeing. Generally, it took about twenty minutes to transmit the roughly ten thousand images required to activate the dormant neural pathways. However with Clark, the device had scrolled through ten thousand images in the first ten seconds at an ever accelerating pace and then the counter seemed to simply go mad. The display was a blur except for the leftmost digit. Ten thousand. Twenty thousand. Fifty thousand. A hundred thousand. Five hundred thousand. A million. Two million. The counter just kept climbing.

Var had never heard of anyone going passed twenty-five thousand images and couldn't image what was happening to Clark. Finally, after fifty-eight seconds, Var saw Clark's body spasm. A second later, giant chunks of the titanium pedestal were flying about the room as Clark's arms shot into view. They sprang outwards until they were ninety degrees from his body in a classic crucifix position. Then Clark's back arched and, even on the poor quality video feed, the beam of energy which shot up from his eyes completely overwhelmed the pale white beam coming from the Purl Nous device.

Var had only an instant to see the equipment mounted in the ceiling above Clark glow white and then vaporize before every data feed from the room died.

Now he was left with only the remote sensors scattered throughout the facility. The computer monitor in front of him was currently showing a real-time three dimensional thermal map of the facility. Temperatures in the level 12 main corridor at the entrance to the side passage leading to Clark's room were just over two hundred fifty degrees. They fell off fairly quickly so that at the elevator they were barely over one hundred. No, most of the heat from the event seemed to be going up rather than out. The section of level 11 nearest to Clark's location was reading five hundred twenty six degrees. Similarly, level 10 was reading one hundred eight three degrees and even level nine was reading an elevated ninety-four.

Based on temperature readings, motion sensors, and gravity readings, the worse of the events seemed to be passed. Var really wanted to be down there for Clark and with one more glance at the temperatures just outside the entrance to the elevator on level 12, he decided he should be okay for at least a short time if he stayed inside the elevator; in case a hasty retreat was required.

Var issued the voice commands needed to shut off the computer display and open the door. Then he directed his chair towards the open doorway. He had barely cleared the door when his long time nurse, Mildred Prescot, was at his side.

"Virgil," she began, using his first name as she only ever did when they were alone. "You are pushing yourself too hard today. Let me check you out and get you something to eat."

Var had long since adjusted to the motherly way Mildred treated him. He knew he had a serious problem with pushing himself much harder than his damaged body would allow. That's why he put up with Mildred; she was one of the few nurses he had had down through the decades who really seemed to understand his true limits and would insist he rest before he reached them. And somehow she also always seemed to know what method would work to get him to listen. Sometimes it was by cajoling and sometimes it was playing the drill sergeant and sometimes something completely different. But on this one occasion, Var was not prepared to listen to her. He needed to get down to Level 12 for Clark.

"Later . . . Mildred . . . I must get . . . down to level . . . twelve . . . Now."

Var hadn't stopped his forward motion and Mildred from long practice had easily matched his pace walking along his right side. Now she reached out and threw the manual override on his chair, bringing it to a halt.

"Virgil, I can see it in your face. You need to rest."

"Mildred . . . I must . . . get down to . . . level twelve . . . Clark needs me."

"I will send one of the others down," answered Mildred calmly.

"You don't . . . understand . . . It must be me . . . I promise it . . . won't take . . . more than ten . . . minutes . . . Then I will . . . do whatever . . . you say."

Mildred had been with Virgil Swann for over sixteen years and she had never heard such a pleading tone in his voice. And never before had he so strenuously objected to her decisions regarding what was necessary for his health.

It wasn't in her nature to capitulate, that's why he had hired her, but she could see how important this was to him. "Okay, you can go, but on one condition. I stay at your side the whole time and when I decide you have pushed too far, it is straight back to your suite."

Var knew he was boxed in. It was either take her along or stay right here. He had no way of overriding the manual shutoff switch she had used to immobilize his chair.

"Okay . . . we do it . . . your way . . . Just don't be . . . surprised if you . . . see things . . . that shock you."

Mildred gave a small laugh as she switched his chair back on. "Virgil, I have been with you a long time. I have already seen a lot of things that have surprised me."

Other than Var issuing an occasional voice command to his chair, the two of them made their way to the elevator in silence. It wasn't until the elevator was passing level 11 that Var spoke up.

"Ah . . . Mildred . . . it may be . . . a little warm . . . when the door . . . opens."

She shot him a glance, but it was already too late to do anything. The elevator had stopped and the door was starting to open from the bottom. And immediately waves of heat began rolling through the opening.

"Virgil, we have to get out of here!" Mildred said in a shrill voice as she moved towards the elevator's control panel.

"No . . . wait . . . I must have . . . a look down . . . the passageway."

Mildred paused and then leaned down so her head was on a level with the seated Swann. As soon as the door had risen sufficiently to give him his view, she intended to hit the door close button.

As the door rose, more and more of the corridor's floor came into view. And except for the heat, everything looked the same as when they had departed this level a bare fifteen minutes earlier. The long string of light bulbs was still glowing. The gray concrete floors and walls were unchanged.

Mildred had just decided Virgil had seen everything there was to see and that she needed to get him out of the heat, when it happened. With a loud metallic screech which echoed up and down the long corridor, the massive ten ton door to the side corridor ripped free and flew across the width of the passage. The whole level shook when it hit the far wall. Then it rang like a giant bell as it banged down to the floor.

A faint cloud of pulverized concrete dust seemed to fill the corridor. Then as she stared at it, the dust began to glow as though lit from below. Her eyes tracked down just in time to see a large incandescent orange mass come oozing out of the large hole in the corridor's wall where the door had just stood. The mass was thick, viscous and she had seen its like many times before, but always in movies.

"Holy shit. Virgil, is that lava? It looks like lava. What the fuck is lava doing down here? We need to get out of here now," she babbled. But for the moment she seemed frozen in place and unable to move toward the elevator's controls.

Then the truly impossible happened. The boy, Clark, who had shown up unannounced yesterday in New York and who Virgil had immediately treated like a long lost son, came walking out of the side corridor. He was completely naked, but that barely sunk in to her overworked mind. No, his nudity was insignificant next to the way he was calmly wading through the knee-deep lava.

It only took him ten strides to outpace the slow moving lava and then he seemed to pick up the pace. And as he approached them his nudity still hardly registered on her dazzled mind as her eyes remained focused on the slowly cooling lava still dripping off of his legs.

Var watched as Clark closed the distance until he finally paused a mere ten feet away. Var's ability to judge people's true height seemed to have failed him when he took up residence in this chair, but somehow Clark looked like he was several inches tall than when he saw him a mere fifteen minutes earlier. But then he remembered his own sons' Purl Nous experiences and how they both had stood taller and straighter as the true understanding of the experience sank in.

However he wondered if it was even more than that for Clark, as he remembered how Clark had experienced something at least a thousand times more intense than what anyone on Krypton had ever gone through. And then when Clark spoke his voice was suddenly half an octave lower then before and rumbled with a strength and power Var had never experienced from Clark.

"**I KNOW HOW TO SAVE HER."**

End of Chapter 22

Author's Note:

I have always wondered how the planet Krypton of the movies ended up a planet of crystal, since it didn't seem like people could evolve there. And the movies never gave a satisfactory explanation of what destroyed Krypton. So, since I don't foresee this saga returning to Krypton any time soon, I decided to use this chapter to fill in these old holes in the story.

After a slow three year trek, is everyone ready to finally reach the conclusion of this particular story? Hopefully, I can come up with something in the next chapter worthy of the long wait.

Have a great day and thanks for reading and reviewing,

Duane


	23. Biological Families Chapter 23

8/31/07

Biological Families – Chapter 23

Part 1

Sliviuh slowly pulled the sleek black 996 Porsche Turbo into the stable. Watching her rearview mirror, she idled forward far enough for the matching black Cayenne to also clear the large sliding door. Then after bleeping the 450 horsepower engine once, she shut it down and climbed out of the car. Glancing down as she made her way back to the waiting SUV, she grinned at her reflection in the heavily tinted windows. It was lucky they had had one with the dark windows on the show room floor at the dealer in Metropolis, it made getting around Smallville incognito so much easier. Everyone who saw the car would simply assume it was another of Lex Luthor's toys. Of course, it hadn't prevented the cop from pulling her little caravan over for doing 140 mph in a 55 zone, but with a hot little body, she hadn't even needed to exchange blood and secretly infect him with her 'bots to convince the cop to let her go.

With a swagger perfected during the centuries all humanity had groveled at her feet, Sliviuh strode to the Cayenne's driver's door and gestured with her finger for the driver to lower his window. As the dark window slid down, she once again looked at the thirty-something Porsche sales guy sitting behind the wheel. In the three passenger seats sat the other three sales reps, all in matching white golf shirts with prominent logos adorning their left breast pockets. It was going to be a slow sales day at the dealership, thought Sliviuh. But what was more important: them meeting their sales quotas, or her personal convenience? In a matter of weeks, she should once more be running the world, which certainly made the answer obvious.

"Get your gear ready, boys, but wait out here until I send her out," directed Sliviuh.

"Yes, Mistress," the enthralled men all responded in unison.

Sliviuh threw them a quick wink that she knew would get their hearts racing based on the subliminal triggers she had implemented during her special form 'training'. Then without a backwards glance she turned and left the stable, pulling the big door shut – no point in tempting the Fates too much.

As she walked to the large white house located a hundred feet to her left, she glanced across the wide field separating her from the next farm over. A small part of her enjoyed the thrill of being less than a quarter of a mile from the Kent farm. It was just remotely possible that the 'Clark' who had followed her back from 1936 Germany could be in the immediate vicinity and could confront her before she was ready. Oh, it was a very small risk as he certainly wouldn't dare run into himself before tonight's events would send him back in time. But still there was a small risk and the thrill-seeker portion of her personality, which had been suppressed by Chloe for so many thousands of years, rejoiced in the moment.

Reaching the wide encircling veranda, she briskly climbed the three steps, walked passed the swinging loveseat, and grabbed the doorknob. With a simple twist the door clicked open. Based on her access to Lana's memories, it wasn't a surprise to find it unlocked, but she still had to marvel at the naiveté required to leave it unlocked after all the attacks Lana had experienced from meteor freaks over the past year.

"Aunt Nell, I'm home," she called out as soon as the door was fully open.

"I'm in the kitchen," came the reply.

Sliviuh couldn't help a small grin; the kitchen would have so many handy objects to give them both the necessary small prick.

She crossed the at once familiar, yet new living room. She had access to all of Lana's memories and simply 'knew' when and where each picture on the mantle had been taken, yet it was like looking at a detailed photo album she had seen a hundred times without ever experiencing the events first hand. It was a little like experiencing one of her subject's memories when they submitted to her oath of fealty, but she had never been through it before while in someone else's body.

Pushing the white swinging door to the kitchen open, she found Nell at the kitchen table. The table was covered with cut flowers and several vases waiting to be filled. From Nell's attire and the assortment of flowers, it was obvious she had been out collecting them from the woods.

Perfect, thought Sliviuh, as she ran her eyes across the table and recognized the Virginia bluebells, yellow lady slipper orchids, sweet William, nodding trillium, and finally what she was most hoping for, a handful of pale green prairie roses. Jeffrey Palmer had told her the woods between the Potter place and the Luthor Estate were full of them, but it was nice to have it confirmed. And better still, at least one location where they could be found was already locked away in Nell's memory.

Before she looked up, Nell set down the scissors she had been using to trim the stems. "Good, to see you, Lana," she said in a tone that clearly indicated she was still very unhappy with the amount of time her sixteen-year-old niece was spending over at the Luthor mansion.

Sliviuh tried to assume the embarrassed smile she knew Lana would have in this situation, but it was hard. Her normal reaction was to execute anyone who used such a condescending tone with her.

"Oh, I just stopped by to pick-up a couple changes of clothes. I think Lex will love my blue silk chemise. You know, the one at the bottom of my underwear drawer that we both pretend you don't know about," she said with a hint of a cruel gleam in her eyes she couldn't fully suppress. It would be so much fun to destroy the older woman's image of Lana. If only she had the time.

Nell's eyes widen in shock at this blatant remark confirming her fears about the true status of the relationship between Lana and Lex. But before she could respond, Sliviuh staggered and would have fallen to her knees if she hadn't grabbed the edge of the table.

"Lana, what's wrong?" exclaimed Nell, their growing rift over Lex put momentarily aside.

Sliviuh gasped as she momentarily had to focus her full attention to the ongoing struggle to retain her control over Lana's mind and body. It was one more reminder her time was growing short. She would have preferred to pick her own time and place to attempt to recover her old body, but it was going to have to be tonight, as soon after Lana and Clark had passed through the time machine as was possible. But perhaps it was for the best, Clark probably wouldn't expect her to attack within minutes of his return to the root cellar to save Chloe. Assuming, of course, Clark had found a way to save Chloe from the virus or whatever was attacking her 'bot system.

Fortunately, the hours she was forced to spend in the virtual reality world contending with Lana passed in only a couple of seconds in the real world. As soon as she had control of her temporary body again, she straightened up.

"I'm fine, Aunt Nell. I think it is probably something I ate. Or," she continued, feeling particularly malicious due to the constant annoying struggle with Lana, "perhaps it's just a touch of morning sickness."

Nell took a sudden step back, her eyes widening in an expression of shock. "Lana, what are you saying?" she asked in a voice barely above a whisper.

While Nell's brown eyes were frozen on her niece's face, Sliviuh took a step forward. Quietly she reached out her left hand and retrieved the discarded scissors.

"I'm saying there are two people trapped in this body and one of them wants out."

As Nell stood there frozen, interpreting the comment in the only way her personal experience would allow, Sliviuh stepped closer. In an apparent effort to gain her aunt's emotional support, she turned slightly and placed her right hand on top of Nell's, which was lying flat on the wooden table.

Then, just as Nell's was trying to muster a sympathetic smile, Sliviuh struck! She raised the heavy old scissors with her left hand and slammed it down, straight through both their hands until the tips of both blades were driven deep into the wood below. Instantly, Nell began to scream.

Sliviuh took a moment to relish the pain before using her 'bots to damp it out. Sometimes it seemed like she felt most alive when giving or receiving pain. But she couldn't indulge herself today, there simply wasn't time. With more than a hint of regret, she forced herself to begin the task of taking control of Nell's mind.

Simultaneously she began to work the scissors back and forth to pry them loose from where they were stuck in the table top; already sufficient 'bots had been transferred between their hands to make direct blood contact no longer necessary.

In the eleven seconds it took for their hands to heal, Nell's ordeal was over.

Bowing her head, Nell said, "I understand my task, Mistress Sliviuh."

"Excellent," answered Sliviuh. "But call me Lana, we don't want any mistakes at an inopportune moment."

"Of course, ahh, Lana," responded Nell. Then picking up the scissors, which had only seconds earlier ripped a large hole through her hand, she turned towards the door.

"Wait a moment, Nell," Sliviuh commanded.

Nell turned and looked dutifully at her mistress.

"Wash the blood off you hands before you go, I don't want any of it getting on my car," she said in a tone that indicated the Porsche was more important to her than Nell. "And take the gloves; I may not have time to heal your hands later."

In a couple of minutes Nell was gone; on her way to the stable to pick up the men and head off into the woods on an expedition in search of green roses.

After watching the older woman depart, Sliviuh walked over to the counter and picked up the cordless phone. Then frowning, she was forced to open a drawer and pull out the phone book. Lana hadn't called the number Sliviuh needed during the past week, since she had acquired her 'bot system from Chloe. And before acquiring the perfect recall provided by the 'bots, Lana's memory of 'seldom-used' phone numbers was hazy at best.

Finally, after wasting two precious minutes with three wrong numbers, she connected to the one she needed.

"Good morning. Is this Mr. Baker? Ahh, hi, could I speak to Alicia? This is Lana Lang . . . ah . . . Lana from The Talon. Yes, thanks."

"Hi, Alicia. This is Lana. I could use a big favor. Could you meet me at The Talon in, say, twenty minutes? Great, see you then."

As Sliviuh hung up the phone, she couldn't suppress a grin. With access to all of Lana's memories of this day, she knew she wouldn't run into herself at The Talon. With anyone else she could just pretend to be Lana. And if she happened to run into Chloe, she would just have to be sure they didn't touch. And the same would have to go for Lex, which might be harder, but she couldn't risk leaving traces of herself in Lex's 'bot system for the original Lana to find.

In addition to Lana's memories, she also had access to all of Chloe's memories before the events in the Roman arena split Laura from Chloe. Therefore she knew of the events two months earlier when Chloe had learned of Alicia's secret gift. Of course, Alicia had learned part of Chloe's secret, too, but she didn't know about the 'bots ability to infect others. And she certainly didn't know about Lana's 'bots. And unless Chloe had told Clark in the last week, Clark had no idea about Alicia's little gift either.

Sliviuh found herself humming a little tune that hadn't been heard in ten thousand years as she made her way back to the Porsche parked in the garage. Thirty minutes to 'acquire' Alicia's services and then an hour to use Alicia's gift to run a few errands before returning here. Hopefully, by the time she got back, some of the guys with Nell would be back with the first batch of roses. Throw in her visit to Belle Reve the previous afternoon and the plans for tonight were coming together nicely.

Part 2

A thousand feet above the root cellar Clark hovered in the storm filled sky. The wind was howling, lightning bolts were thrumming all around, and he was drenched from the scattered rain. But none of that mattered with the moment he had been striving for finally at hand.

He had arrived and taken up position forty-five minutes early to ensure everything went as planned. Six minutes before his earlier self would arrive with Chloe from the school dance, the reporter, Roger Nixon, appeared lugging a large shoulder-mount video camera in one hand and a duffel bag in the other. Clark zoomed his vision and watched Nixon pull a pair of bolt cutters from the bag and use it to cut the padlock Clark's Dad used to keep people out of the cellar and away from spaceship hidden within.

As the reporter headed down the stairs, Clark's vision automatically shifted over into x-ray mode. And this time it was not the skeletal mode he had mostly been limited to for the past six months, but rather an enhanced mode like he had only experienced very intermittently. Since undergoing the Purl Nous procedure the previous day, many of his abilities, not just the x-ray vision seemed to have improved. So now, instead of seeing a skeleton moving down the stairs, he saw Nixon and the entire interior of the cellar as though the intervening ground was merely lightly tinted glass.

Clark watched as Nixon flipped the camera's attached floodlights on before hoisting it up onto his shoulder. Nixon did a preliminary quick sweep of the chamber before using the lights to select an out of the way location to stow his duffel bag. Then turning back towards the center of the room, the reporter homed in on the canvas draped object near the opposite wall.

Nixon quickly crossed the intervening space and pulled back the cover. For a moment he appeared so shocked at what he had uncovered, he seemed to forget entirely about the video camera. But after thirty seconds he pulled himself together and started shooting the ship from all angles in one long, fast take, as though he expected to be interrupted at any moment.

At almost the same time Clark spotted his Mom step out onto the porch and start to take down the row of hanging plants, which were whipping madly about in the near gale force wind. Less than a minute later, his father joined her carrying a heavy-duty flashlight. They appeared to converse for a few seconds and then with Jonathan's arm wrapped protectively around Martha's shoulder, they hurried in the direction of the storm cellar.

During the thirty seconds they needed to reach the cellar's entrance, Clark took a moment to scan the surrounding area. Off in the direction where he knew Lana and Whitney had to be, he could clearly see a tornado descending out of the clouds. About two miles further to the right, he could see two others already on the ground causing massive destruction. Then looking closer to home, he spotted Lex's silver Land Rover just turning from the county road into their long driveway. All of the players were reaching their assigned positions.

Clark turned his attention back down in time to see his parents descending the stairway. In a moment Jonathan was confronting Nixon and it seemed almost like Clark could hear the shouting all the way up at his position just at the edge of the lowering clouds. He chaffed at the urge to swoop down and take care of Nixon. But he forced himself to remain motionless, knowing it was going to be even harder once things started to happen to Lex and Chloe.

While the shouting continued, Lex raced up to the cellar's doorway. The storm front had just reached the barnyard and it wasn't clear if his sprint was caused by the weather or by some guess at what was already going on down below. Clark watched him rip open one of the doors and then let it slam behind him as he took the stairs two at a time.

Then things began to happen fast, as the two older men began to fight and Lex was drawn over to the ship. Abruptly, Nixon broke free and with the video camera still tightly clasped in one hand, he dashed up the stairs and out into the storm. As his father chased after him, Clark marked their direction so he could go help his father after he had taken care of things down in cellar. Nixon was leading his father towards the woods and would pass almost the same spot where Clark had confronted him a week earlier. Had that only been a week ago, marveled Clark. From his perspective almost three weeks had passed since that afternoon when Nixon had tried to blow-up his truck. And those three weeks had been some the most life-altering he could remember. He had thought when he had returned from ancient Rome that he would never experience anything so intense again. But during the past week in Nazi Germany he had learned to fly, had learned more of the true extent of his strength, and, most importantly of all, had learned an incredible amount about his true heritage.

'Stop letting your mind wander,' he told himself, as he turned his attention back to the cellar. Looking down, he found Lex already in the grip of the Purl Nous beam. As he saw Lex begin to scream, he couldn't help but sympathize based on memories of his own exposure just the day before to the similar beam in Var's underground New Mexico facility.

Then it was over and he watched Lex's body drop limply to the floor. Now his attention was solely focused on the spaceship. He knew from what his Mom had said that the spaceship was about to slam its way through the reinforced concrete ceiling and disappear into the sky. He would have liked to linger to see his and Chloe's arrival, but he had to keep the ship in sight, as it was the key to reversing Chloe and Lex's condition. If he was lucky, he would already have it under control before they arrived.

The symbols on the craft began to glow with an almost incandescent intensity. Then abruptly the ship produced a massive wave of light and energy. Clark felt like he had momentarily gone blind as his x-ray vision absorb the intense blow. By the time his vision cleared, the ship had already burst from the ground and raced off to the east. Instantly, Clark accelerated after it, diving deep into the speed zone. But the ship was fast; faster than anything he had come up against so far. In an instant the lights of Metropolis flashed passed and he seemed to be only slowing closing the gap.

Drawing on his experiences during his Purl Nous, he forced himself much deeper into the speed zone until from his perspective the spaceship rapidly began to slow. Then it seemed to stop, hanging suspended in space and time. In surprise, he almost overshot it before slowing until he, too, hung in mid-air.

Reaching out with his left hand Clark firmly grasped the edge of the small ship. In the same way his touch to the giant Nazi battleship had shifted it into the alternate space-time continuum which surrounded him when he was in the 'speed zone' and had allowed him to hoist it high into the air above the Baltic Sea, his touch now shifted his ship into his accelerated time mode. This was vitally important as he had many hours of work to do and only seconds in 'real time' to accomplish it.

With his right hand Clark began pressing the glowing symbols. These symbols were effectively a giant keyboard for interfacing with the ship's brain. With the intimate knowledge he had acquired of Krypton during the Purl Nous process, he not only knew the Kryptonian language, but also the three primary protocol systems for data entry compatible with ship brains.

Faster and faster Clark's hand raced across the symbols. Not only did he have to stop the ship from its preprogrammed trajectory, he needed to reprogram its Purl Nous mechanism to ameliorate the virus-like effect it had had on Chloe's 'bot system. Fortunately, now with his near eidetic memory and with all the historical data about the El family that had been slammed into his mind, he was able to understand the significance of the reference Chloe had made to security protocol Fedra Seventeen Hatu Six during her pre-recorded message stored in the device he had retrieved back in 1936. This protocol, developed by the legendary Shu-El nearly three hundred years earlier, gave, among other things, selected members of the El family secret 'back door' access to override the most basic ship brain programming. And it was this secret knowledge that allowed him to make the necessary changes.

Steadily Clark pressed the symbols, never faltering or even hesitating; the information he needed seemed to flow straight from his memory to his fingertips with almost no need for conscious thought. Finally, after what felt like six hours from his perspective, the task was finished. The twenty-five thousand quartels of revised code he had entered should now reverse the effect the previous Purl Nous exposure had had on Lex and Chloe's unprepared human minds. This alteration to the Purl Nous process had also been made possible by his own Purl Nous experience. However this time the data had not come from the El family's historical files, but rather the historical files of Garf-Og, the original developer of the Hall of Gestation and the associated Purl Nous process. During some of his early experiments, he had attempted a Purl Nous like process without the preliminary prenatal alterations to the Kryptonian minds. These had caused mental responses in the test subjects similar to what Chloe and Lex were experiencing. Garf-Og had come up with a process to restore the minds of his test subjects and it was a variation on this approach that Clark had encoded into his ship.

Clark paused for a moment to let his mind rest from the nearly impossible task he had just completed. But he only paused for a moment, because even in this accelerated mode, time was still passing in the 'real' world, and his window of opportunity to save Chloe was rapidly drawing to a close.

Scanning his surroundings, he saw they were hovering near a coastline. And from the way the water below seemed to stretch from horizon to horizon, it must be the Atlantic. And if it was the Atlantic, then he had nearly fifteen hundred miles to traverse to return to Smallville. If he was going to make it back in time, it would be necessary to stay deep in 'speed mode'. So tightening his grasp on the ship to ensure it stayed in the envelope of his space-time field, he willed himself back in the direction from which he had come while keeping the ship in tow.

Part 3

Martha watched as Clark leaned down and placed a quick kiss on Chloe's forehead. After gently lowering her trembling body to the ground, he quickly stood.

"Mom, take care of them. I have to go, but I will be back as soon as I can."

Martha numbly nodded her head, but he was already gone. Some small part of her mind registered that his departure was even more abrupt than normal. Usually, he seemed to blur slightly as he accelerated up to his incredible speed, but this time he simply vanished. One second he was standing there and a millisecond later he was gone, as though someone had thrown a giant switch labeled 'Clark' and he no longer existed.

For a couple of seconds she just sat there staring at Lex and Chloe. Two of her son's best friends were lying there looking near death. Lex was utterly motionless and in the dim light of the ruined storm cellar she couldn't even detect if his chest was rising and falling from a mere five feet away. With Chloe on the other hand it was easy to tell she was still alive, although the way the spasms shook and racked her body, she didn't seem much better off than Lex.

Her motherly instincts suddenly seemed to kick in and she started to lever herself erect to move over to Chloe, as it looked like a soothing voice might benefit her more than Lex.

She had just gotten to her feet when Clark seemed to rematerialize out of thin air. He wasn't where he had been standing by Chloe, but instead was on the far side of the cellar and he seemed to glow a brilliant yellowy-white, almost like an angel. It took her a moment to realize the light was coming from the spaceship. Somehow it had also instantly returned and the symbols etched into its surface were now brilliantly illuminating the cellar.

"Clark, How . . ." was all she got out before he brusquely cut her off.

"I'll explain later, Mom. I need to help Chloe and Lex now."

Martha was certain he hadn't been gone more than ten seconds, yet something about him seemed changed. And it wasn't just his clothes which had somehow gone from a black tuxedo to a pair of gray coveralls with a large 'K-Star R&D, Inc.' logo on the back. No, after being in his presence for less than five seconds and hearing one brief comment, she was certain there was something different about him – a focus or purpose she had never seen before.

She watched as he carefully lifted Chloe into his arms and carried her over to the ship. Lowering her legs to free his right arm, Clark leaned her head back until it rested between his head and shoulder. Then he reached out with his right hand and touched a dozen of the symbols in a rapid sequence. Instantly, a brilliant beam of light shot out of the ship and struck Chloe in the forehead, just as the beam of light had earlier done to Lex.

Martha took a couple of tentative steps forward. This changed the angle between the ship and the others just enough so she could see there wasn't just the one beam playing across Chloe's face, but also a second one directed at her son. She felt a moment of panic that the same thing was going to happen to him as had happened to the others, but then she noticed a difference. The beam touching Clark was much narrower and more focused. And she got the sensation that data in his beam was flowing in both directions rather than in one direction like the earlier beam with Lex or the current beam with Chloe.

The beam played against Chloe's forehead for at least ten seconds and during that time Martha was certain the trembling in Chloe's body had begun to subside. Then both beams simultaneously stopped and Clark once more swept Chloe fully up into his arms.

"Thank you, Clark," Martha heard the girl whisper and she felt a smile light her face for the first time in minutes; somehow in a matter of seconds her son had once more done what should have been impossible.

"Can you stand?" Clark asked with a distinct sense of relief in his voice.

"Yes," was Chloe's simple response.

After a quick gentle kiss, Clark lowered her feet to the ground. As her legs took up her weight, she swayed just a little.

"You okay?"

Martha walked over to join them as Chloe nodded.

"Yeah, there is just so much data my 'bot system is trying to process all at once, it is sort of distracting."

Its current task now completed the small ship's systems began to power down. And as part of the process, the bright symbols started to fade. As gloom began to settle once more about the damaged cellar, Chloe reached out and quickly tapped four of the symbols. At once the symbols began to brighten, not to the earlier near-blinding intensity, but to a level which comfortably lit the entire chamber.

"How did you know how to do that?" asked Martha.

"Oh, apparently I now know how to read the language of Krypton," answered Chloe in a tone that implied she was just as surprised by her words as Martha was.

"Krypton?" echoed Martha.

"It is the name of the planet where I was born," answered Clark with a smile. "So much has happened since I last saw you."

"But you couldn't have been gone more than ten seconds," answered Martha already knowing she about to have another of those dizzying conversations.

"It has been about two weeks for me," Clark answered before turning back to Chloe. "Are you really okay? Can you cure Lex or should I use the ship? I have so much to tell, but it affects Lex as much as us, and I would like to tell it just once."

"Oh, I can handle it. The revised data you downloaded to correct the effects of Lex's earlier encounter with the ship allowed my 'bot system to properly integrate and store everything rather just delete all of the corruption. I can replicate the effect on Lex's 'bots and his mind with less risk of permanent damage than exposing his passive 'bots to the ship again."

Before she had finished speaking she had already slipped from Clark's enveloping arms and moved over to Lex. Kneeling down, she lightly rested her right hand on Lex's forehead. Unlike her previous encounter, which her internal 'bot clock said was exactly two hundred ninety six seconds earlier, this contact didn't end in a shock of pain and horror. No, after fifteen seconds she withdrew her hand and asked calmly, "Lex, can you hear me?"

Lex's eyes, which were still showing only the whites, slowly closed and then he blinked rapidly several times. With a small moan, he pushed himself up into a sitting position and they could all see his eyes had reverted to their normal dark blue.

"What happened?" he asked, still sounding a little groggy, as he ran a hand through his short auburn hair.

"You experienced what is called Purl Nous on my home planet. It is a procedure which Kryptonian youths are put through around their sixteenth birthday. It greatly enhances their mental abilities. However it is only the second half of a process; the first part involves pre-natal genetic manipulations. The intended recipient should have been me, not you. Unfortunately, we have been in the middle of an extended timeloop and the ship had been intentionally set to perform the process on the first person, other than me, whom it encountered after my sixteenth birthday."

From the expression on his face, it was obvious Lex was still struggling to get back up to speed. But Chloe wasn't having the same problem.

"Another timeloop?" she asked.

Clark shrugged. "From one perspective you could say that. However I believe it is part of a greater loop that also includes the events related to our trip to ancient Rome."

Martha took in the coveralls Clark was wearing in place of the tuxedo she had seen him in just minutes earlier. "Clark, are you saying you have traveled in time again?"

He nodded. "I just spent a week in 1936 Nazi Germany."

Chloe let out a small gasp. Ever since she had arrived in Smallville three years earlier and met Clark on the first day of school, she had wondered when this end of his trip back in time to Germany would occur. Now, at last she had her answer.

And suddenly it felt like she was stepping back into the unknown for the first time in several millennia. Since the day Clark and Whitney had shown up in Dresden she had always known one fact about the future – someday she would once again meet Clark. Then during her long two thousand year journey back from Rome, she had known so much about the intervening years it had been like rereading a favorite book. Now, at last, she had no further knowledge about the future. No secret edge when dealing with everyone else. From now on, each page of the book was new and unread. Even with her vast experience, life suddenly felt a little more scary.

Clark smiled. "I've been wondering, did you get Patrick and Maddalyn out of Germany?"

With her revere broke by Clark's question, Chloe returned his smile. "Yeah, we relocated to New Zealand about six months later. They both made it through the war okay."

"And your husband?"

Chloe was watching Clark's face when he asked the question. Before today, when her previous husbands were brought up, there had always been an edge in Clark's voice or a look in his eye that said he was very uncomfortable with the whole idea. But now that seemed to be gone. Whether it was actually meeting one of them and discovering he was just an ordinary person and not someone Chloe kept on a high pedestal, or some other event during the two weeks Clark had been away, either way Clark suddenly seemed so much more grown-up and mature.

After looking into Clark's eyes for another moment, Chloe shook her head. "No, Johan was too deeply caught up in the events in Germany and I couldn't convince him to leave without explaining your warning. I don't believe he ever went completely to the dark side or got involved with the death camps. At least I like to think so, but towards the end, things became so chaotic I no longer had reliable sources in Germany. A few years after the war, we returned for a brief visit, but all I could determine was that he died during the final Russian assault on Berlin."

"Ah, what are you talking about?" asked Martha. And by now Lex was also echoing her question with a nod.

"While back in Germany, I met Chloe at an earlier point in her life. Before she came to Smallville, even before she was called Chloe."

"Here, this might help," Clark continued, as he reached into one of the deep front pockets of his coverall and pulled out a bundle. He handed the bundle to Lex, who unwrapped it,. Inside the protective paper, Lex discovered the small set of photos Clark had brought back from the past, as well as a small black box with a large red button under a protective cover.

Chloe couldn't stop herself from taking a small step backwards at seeing the familiar box.

"Clark, what is going on?" asked Lex, as he too recognized the device which had been used on their return from ancient Rome to purge Laura from Lana's 'bot system.

"I'm afraid I recruited Lana and Whitney to go back to 1936 with me, and well, things didn't go well."

Lex's brain had still felt groggy from his experience with the ship, but suddenly concern for what might have happened to Lana seemed to shake all the remaining cobwebs clear.

"Clark, what happened?" repeated Lex more forcefully.

"From the little Chloe was able to tell me after she became infected from having her 'bots attempt to interface with yours, she had a mental image of a device that might be able to help with a cure for the two of you, but the only time she knew its exact location was during the opening ceremonies of the 1936 Berlin Olympics. The person who was supposed to receive it was named Dr. Jones. Therefore I had no choice but to travel back in time to retrieve the device. Anyway, so we would have time, hopefully, to find this Dr. Jones before the events in Chloe's vision, we used the time machine to arrive a week early.

"Since we had been forced to leave with less than three minutes notice, we weren't very well prepared. We didn't have appropriate clothes, we didn't have any local currency, and only Lana could speak German. After we arrived, we decided the best cover while starting our investigation was to blend in with the American Olympic team, who had arrived in Berlin one day before us.

"And that's where these pictures are from. On our first day, Lana talked the coaches into giving us an opportunity to try out for the team. I knew Whitney was a decent athlete, but even I was a little surprised that with just a little help from his 'bots, he was able to blow Jesse Owens out of the water in a 200 meter exhibition race."

"Wait a second, Clark," interrupted Lex, as he glanced up from the photo he had been staring at of Lana all decked out in a 1930's summer dress and a big frilly hat. "Are you saying Whitney has a 'bot system now, too?"

Clark nodded. "While you were down here having fun with my ship, Lana and Whitney were caught up in a tornado while on their way to the bus depot. From the scattered wreckage of Whitney's pickup, I would guess they were lifted several hundred feet into the air before the truck was thrown clear. The impact on landing killed Whitney and left Lana pinned under the truck's engine block until it was almost too late, introducing a set of 'bots into Whitney's body was the only way to save him."

"So Whitney made the Olympic team by beating Jesse Owens?" asked Chloe to get Clark's story back on track.

Clark nodded. "Yeah, and Lana got a place on the Women's fencing team."

"What about you, Clark?" asked Chloe.

"Oh, you know me. I seem to have developed this thing for javelins."

When Chloe and Lex both nodded and displayed small smiles, Martha asked, "What?"

Lex was the first to respond. "When we were back in Rome, one of Clark's first little demonstrations as the Greek God Ares was throwing a spear about one thousand feet and hitting a thrown orange. I remember wondering at the time how far you could have thrown it if you had gone for range instead of accuracy. Of course, that was before I saw you toss that sixty foot tall stone obelisk."

Clark wondered what Lex was going to think when he got to the part about lifting an eight hundred foot battleship a thousand feet into the air. Of course, until things were resolved with Sliviuh, he might not want to give away too many of his remaining secrets. It was certainly possible for her or her agents to infiltrate almost anywhere.

Responding with a simple shrug, Clark continued. "I am sure my distance with a Javelin will always be limited by the slowing effects of wind resistance and aerodynamic drag, the answer is probably not more than ten or twenty miles.

"Anyway, Lana, Whitney and I managed to secure positions with the Olympic team and settled into the Olympic village while Lana searched for the 'Dr. Jones' Chloe had mentioned. After three days she tracked down his hotel. The three of us went to meet him and that's when things started to go wrong."

"What happened Clark?" asked Chloe, who couldn't seem to keep her eyes from darting every few seconds to the scary little black box still resting in Lex's hand. She had never expected to need it again after clearing Laura from Lana's 'bot system and just standing this close to it was enough to make her skin crawl. She might be extremely difficult to kill, but one press of that button would wipe out most of her memories of the last nineteen thousand years. And after using her 'bot system to store memories for so very long, she wasn't certain how much of her mind might be left after the event. Certainly she wouldn't revert to some nice simple pre-nanobot Chloe like Lana had done. No, even with her 'bots she had very little memory of her life before them. Would she end up like some amnesia victim on TV with absolutely no memories of who she was?

Clark didn't immediately sense the distress Chloe was feeling and jumped right back into his story. "We went to Dr. Jones' hotel, but discovered he wasn't there. We had just started to chat with his wife when two superstrong Nazi thugs broke into the room. That was the last time I saw Lana or Marion Jones."

"How long has it been since you last saw her?" asked Lex. "Is she still trapped back in the past?"

"From my perspective, it has been six days since I have seen her. And no, she is here in the present somewhere, although things would be a lot simpler if she was still back there. But it will make a lot more sense if I tell things in their proper order."

Clark was expecting someone to interrupt with the 'Jones' question, but surprisingly it was his Mom who was the one to ask. Then he realized she would have been around college age when the first movie was released, so perhaps that is why she more easily made the connection than Lex. Or maybe it was just that Lex's entire attention was focused on Lana.

"Dr. Jones. Marion Jones. Are you talking about Indy? How is that possible?" asked Martha with just a hint of hysteria creeping into her voice. Even with all of her experience with the meteor freaks over the passed couple of years and the almost countless times she had had to patch up her supposedly invulnerable son, these time travel situations were still almost beyond her comprehension.

"Yeah, I'm talking about Indiana Jones. Oh, not exactly the one in the movies, neither Hank nor Marion look that much like Harrison Ford or Karen Allen, but they and their adventures were certainly the basis for the movies. However the whole 'Indiana' name appears to have been made up by Lucas and Spielberg as it didn't ring any bells with Hank. He didn't even have a dog by that name."

"But the other parts of the movies were true?" Martha pressed.

"Well, I only have Hank's word for it, but apparently the Lost Ark and the Holy Grail parts were based on actual events. I don't know about the other one in the Far East as it never happened to come up in our conversations."

"So those relics actually existed?" asked Lex.

For a moment Clark saw a hint in the look in his eyes of the old predatory Lex. "Well, as I said I never saw them myself, but based on things I did see, I would have to say yes.

"What leads me back to the superstrong Nazis who kidnapped Lana and Marion. I didn't learn the truth until much later, but they got their strength from braids of Samson's hair they had somehow acquired."

"Strong, as in 'Clark Kent' strong?" asked Chloe.

Clark gave a shrug, but not the 'completely embarrassed by my special abilities' shrug of the old Clark. Chloe realized he seemed much more at ease with his gifts than he ever used to be. Echoing her thoughts about Clark's reaction to comments about her former husband, she wondered what exactly was behind this new more comfortable, less humble change.

"No. Oh, they were probably fifty times stronger than an ordinary person and they caught me off-guard during our first couple of encounters. But they didn't have my speed nor were they invulnerable to bullets."

Chloe was still listening to Clark's words, but she couldn't get the sight of the little black box out of her head. Almost like she was channeling Spiderman from the comics, she was getting this tingling sensation that very bad things were about to happen.

"Clark, why did you bring the box? I am suddenly getting a bad feeling. Can you cut to the chase?"

Clark nodded. He had no idea where Sliviuh was or what she was up to. The sooner Chloe was in the know, the better. As only then could they really start figuring out a strategy.

"Okay, but you need to understand I got most of the following from Marion. Apparently, there was still a copy of Laura in Lana's 'bot system. While the two women were being held prisoner, something happened to trigger her. At some later point Lana introduced her 'bots into Marion's body and Laura was already a separate distinct personality. Lana and Laura were coexisting in some virtual reality world and they were alternately taking control of Lana's body.

"At first, Marion said, Laura was mostly helpful, although apparently a little exotic by Marion's standards. But things changed after their captors transferred the women to a German battleship which promptly put out to sea."

Chloe once again remembered her long ago encounter with Clark and Whitney. And the follow-up research she had done later.

"You're talking about 'The Hitler', right?"

Clark nodded, but before he could continue, he was interrupted by Lex.

"There was a battleship named 'The Hitler'? Why haven't I ever heard of it?"

"It predated the Bismarck and was completed during the period before the Nazis were ready to officially denounce the Versailles Treaty," answered Chloe. "Therefore they kept its existence a carefully guarded secret during it construction. Then, when it was lost on its very first voyage, there wasn't anything to be gained by acknowledging its existence."

Obviously, Lex's mind was back to full speed. "So Lana was taken on board a ship that was lost on its first voyage?"

"Yeah," answered Chloe again, as she could almost see where things were heading. "I didn't find out about the ship until after the fact, but since Laura was from further in my future, she would have known she was on a doomed ship. And she also would have believed there wasn't any rescue coming as she knew she/I had sent Clark and Whitney to the wrong place. So she would have known it was up to her to save herself and Lana."

"According to Marion, that was the situation," added Clark as he took control of the conversation. "And being held prisoner on a ship at sea, Laura decided the only solution was to use her abilities to take control of the ship."

"What abilities?" asked Lex.

"We talked about it back on the terrace at Chloe's palace back in Rome. You remember, right after the events in the stadium."

"Truthfully, Clark, most of my attention at the time was focused on the situation with Laura and Lana. You better refresh my memory."

"Who is this Laura you keep referring to?" asked Martha.

Clark turned towards his mother. "Mom, ah, Lana was executed by the Romans in one of their stadiums. Chloe managed to get to her soon enough after her death to use her nanobots to save her. But during the process, a copy of all of Chloe's memories were transferred into Lana and these memories overrode Lana's mind so that effectively we had Chloe's mind in Lana's body. Lana was no longer Lana and we couldn't call both Lana and Chloe 'Chloe', as it would have been too confusing. So we called the Chloe mind in Lana's body Laura."

Clark could see his Mom's eyes begin to glaze over. He could barely understand what had happened and knew he wasn't doing the situation justice with just a few sentences, but forced himself to forge ahead. He could always go into more detail with her later, but now he needed to get on to the aspects of the situation which Lex and Chloe needed to know to comprehend the current situation.

"When we got back to the present after our trip to Rome, Chloe figured out how to strip the copy of her mind from Lana's body, so Lana could once more have control of her body."

Clark swiveled to more directly face Lex before continuing. "Anyway, the part of the conversation back in Rome that is important at the moment, was Chloe's story about the time she had been going by the name 'Sliviuh' ten thousand years ago."

A shiver she couldn't suppress raced down Chloe's back at the mention of that long-disused name. Suddenly the reason Clark had brought the little black box seemed crystal clear. Oh, she didn't have any idea of the details, but if her old Sliviuh personality was running around in Lana's body, they were in BIG trouble.

"When she was Sliviuh was the first time Chloe figured out how to insert her 'bots into other people's bodies to heal wounds and injuries. But more importantly at the moment, she also eventually learned how to use them to control people's minds by giving them visions which convinced them she was their personal god."

Clark turned to Chloe. "How long did you rule the planet as Sliviuh?"

Chloe seemed to be staring down at the floor when she answered at little more than a whisper. "Two hundred eighty three years."

"Ruled the planet?" asked Martha never having heard this before and not truly understanding.

"It was one of my darkest times. And it was one of the darkest times for the world. Some of the things I did were unbelievable foul."

"Why is this important now, Clark?" asked Lex, although he already had some strong suspicions.

"When Laura found herself trapped on board a ship she knew was going to be lost at sea somewhere in the next few days, she decided the only solution was to take control of the ship. And to take control of the ship, she started to enslave the minds of the crew. Lots of the crew. Somewhere along the line something snapped in her mind and she reverted to the earlier Sliviuh personality. And the Sliviuh personality didn't see enslaving the crew as simply a means of getting off the ship. No, she saw enslaving the crew as merely the first step on a path to regaining her rightful place as despot of the entire planet."

"Shit," exclaimed Lex. "It is a very scary concept that the person with the most powerful computer in the world in her head is intent on taking control of the planet."

"Lex," said Chloe quietly. "What you say is true, but I don't think you grasp how dangerous she truly is. Way back during the first reign of Sliviuh, she, okay I better say 'I' since talking about myself in the third person is just wrong; like pretending it was someone else. When I ruled the planet as Sliviuh, I was already thousands and thousands of years old. I had seen hundreds of generations of families, friends, associates, and enemies grow old and die around me. Yet I always lived on. Eventually, I reached the point where I no longer cared about human life. I mean they were all going to die in a few years anyway, so what did it matter if I killed people at my slightest whim?

"And that is what makes the situation truly scary if Sliviuh has control of Lana's body; she will not hesitate to kill anyone who gets in her way or even annoys her in anyway. Hell, back in the day, I had people tortured to death for simply bowing one inch less deep than what I thought was proper."

Clark sighed. "I think that pretty well describes her current state. Whitney was shot while he and Hank were trying to rescue the girls from the battleship. Sliviuh just stood there and watched him die. She made no attempt to use her 'bots to help him."

"Whitney's dead?" gasped Martha, as the shock of Clark's revelations of what had happened during the mere ten seconds he had been gone threatened to overwhelm her.

Clark nodded. "Yes. However there is still a chance we can go back and save him with the time machine, but we have to deal Sliviuh first."

Lex's gaze jumped from Chloe to Clark as he tried to imagine his Lana doing the sort of things the two of them had stated or implied. Then his thoughts were interrupted by a new, yet achingly familiar voice from the stairway.

"Hey, you guys aren't talking about me behind my back, are you?" asked Sliviuh, as she paused three steps from the bottom of the stairs.

Lex stared at her and for the moment everything Clark and Chloe had just said seemed to fade away. All he saw was the girl he loved. She was wearing jeans and a white tee shirt similar to what she had been wearing when she had left to take Whitney to the bus depot. Her hair was all wind-blown from the storm raging outside, but otherwise she looked very much the same.

Clark, too, looked at her and for a moment only saw Lana. Since her transformation into Sliviuh they had on several occasions missed each other by mere minutes, but in actual fact they hadn't yet crossed paths. Oh, she had left him a menacing note on the side of the dumpster back in New York, but somehow in his mind he had been thinking of her as a distinctly separate person and in his heart hadn't really accepted she would look and sound just like Lana, the girl he had fantasized about for so many of his adolescent years. After having already experienced Laura in Lana's body for several weeks back in Rome, he should have been more prepared for meeting Sliviuh in her body, but still it was Lana he saw at first glance.

Forcing himself to remember the true situation, Clark quickly turned his x-ray vision on her and scanned for meteor rocks. Nothing. Since she had to know their debilitating effect on him, he had assumed the first sign of her would be some kind of attack using meteor rocks. And that was what he had prepared for.

Quickly, Clark expanded his search for the meteor rocks he knew had to be there. But again he found nothing, at least not within a couple hundred feet. He didn't know why she had shown up without them, but he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Clark's search for the dangerous kryptonite didn't take more than two seconds. Before the others standing with him knew what happened, Clark simply vanished only to reappear instantly across the cellar standing behind Lana with his arms wrapped tightly around her.

"Oh, Clark," began Sliviuh, wiggling around in his powerful hold, but not really trying to get free. "Should you really be holding me like this in front of your girlfriend and my boyfriend after the things we did together back in Germany?"

Clark stared down at her for a moment having no idea what she was talking about.

She wiggled around a little more within his grasp and then suddenly exclaimed, "Why Clark, are you wearing lead panties?"

She gave a twist of her lower body that thrust her ass back against his crotch in a way everyone in the room could clearly see and interpret for its sexual intent.

Then she turned and looked up into his face and clearly read something in his expression. "You are! You're wearing lead panties! Why you naughty, naughty boy. I never would have guessed from our previous tryst that you're so kinky."

Clark stared down at her and wondered why she was fabricating a story about them having had an affair while they had been back in time. What could she hope to gain? Surely she must know he would never let her loose until they had figured out some way to force her out of Lana's body.

Then as he stared down across the mere six inches that separated their faces, he saw her eyes change. Then it spread until her whole expression seemed to be one of arrogant strength and power like she was the one in control and not he.

"Or perhaps it just means you are afraid of me. And you should be. I intend to rule the world. It will be glorious and I would prefer it if you were willingly at my side. But with or without you, I AM going to do it."

After pausing a moment, as though to let her words sink in, she continued. "Let me give you a little time to appreciate the hopelessness of your situation and then we will talk about it again."

Then in a slightly raised voice, Sliviuh commanded. "BEGONE."

Lex, Chloe, and Martha had been silently watching this exchange. They all had witnessed at various times Clark's incredible strength and had assumed once Clark had the girl in his arms the situation was under control. Lex had even begun wondering about the range of the small black box he still held in his hand. How far did he need to be from Chloe to use the device on Lana without risking resetting Chloe's 'bots, too?

Therefore they were all shocked when at her command, Clark vanished. At first it looked just like when Clark had moved in his superspeed mode from the position near them to the spot behind Sliviuh across the room. Blink and he was gone. But he didn't instantly reappear anywhere in sight by the time Sliviuh had dropped the eight inches from where he had been holding her hoisted above the staircase.

Sliviuh landed gracefully on the stairs. She took a moment to run her fingers through her tangled black hair before turning to the three standing motionless on the far side of the room.

"So much for Clark and all of his vaunted strength and speed," Sliviuh began. She shook her head before continuing. "He seems to have this delusion he is like the old Greek Gods. Well, we will have to see how he fares against the Herculean tasks I have set for him and learn if he is truly worthy of standing at my side."

Sliviuh lazily descended the three remaining steps. It was then the others saw the bobbing lights from the flashlights of several more people descending the stairs behind her.

Suddenly, Martha also vanished from their midst just as abruptly as Clark had departed.

"Of course," continued Sliviuh, "For one of Clark's trials we need a damsel in distress. Normally, I would have chosen his girlfriend, but since I need her body, he is going to have to make due with his mother."

At first Chloe couldn't think of how Sliviuh had managed the disappearing act with Clark. But with the much closer abduction of Martha, her enhanced senses had picked up the trace of a familiar perfume.

"Alicia. You got to Alicia."

Sliviuh gave a little bow of her head. "I am sure you can appreciate the advantage of knowing everything that is going to happen for two days into the future."

Then Sliviuh took a small step to the side to clear the way for the two men descending. It wasn't until they had nearly reached the bottom and the glow from the ship finally lit their faces that their identities were revealed. Jonathan Kent and Roger Nixon, each carrying a shotgun, stepped out onto the floor of the cellar and pointed their weapons unerringly towards Lex and Chloe.

"Now, if the two of you would be so kind as to throw down your cell phones and Lex get rid of the gun you are packing, too, we will be on our way."

"But Mistress," whined Jonathan. "You promised me I could kill him for what he did to Martha."

Lex felt his first real jolt of fear. Ten seconds ago the situation had seemed under control. But now Clark and Martha had vanished and Sliviuh had made Jonathan Kent believe he was responsible. He knew Jonathan had always regretted how Clark and he had become friends. He had never really understood why, but knew there had been a kernel of mistrust and animosity in Jonathan's heart that Sliviuh could easily have played to.

"I keep my promises, Jonathan," began Sliviuh in a sickly sweet tone. "But you will have to wait; there are some things I need from Lex first."

Then she turned back towards Lex and Chloe. "Gun and cellphones on the floor now or I will let them shoot you. Killing you for a few minutes will not inconvenience me all that much."

Lex longed for Lana's touch, but he knew he needed to avoid it for as long as possible while Sliviuh was controlling her body. And he still had the little black box clutched in his left hand. He just needed to find a way to get close enough to Sliviuh and far enough from Chloe to use it. Carefully, he reached his closed hand into his side pant's pocket and exchanged the box for his cell. Making a show of tossing the cell across the room, he then proceeded to follow it with his special, limited edition Walther PPK from his custom shoulder holster. The gun, and the fantasy of being James Bond it represented, weren't going to do him much good against someone who could instantly heal anyway.

"Let's go," commanded Sliviuh to Lex and Chloe.

Then before heading up the stairs, she gave one last set of instructions to the two with her. "Remember," reminded Sliviuh her two thralls, "do not let the girl touch you. If you do, I WILL kill you and everyone in your families. You are authorized to shoot them, if you have to."

Lex took in the expressions on Jonathan's and Nixon's faces. They had both been strong-willed men, but now they had been cowed by what Sliviuh had done to them. 'Enslaving minds' had been little more then words before, but now he was starting to understand what Clark and Chloe really meant. And no way did he want to end up like them. He had to find a way out before Sliviuh touched him.

"Lex, do what she says," suggested Chloe.

He looked at her and tried to read her expression. Did she have some plan in mind? But she was suddenly doing a good impression of a game-winning poker face.

Sliviuh led the way out of the ruined cellar. The wind was still howling when they got out into the open and headed back to the barnyard. Lex quickly spotted the large truck pulled up behind his Land Rover. A flash of lightening momentarily lit the side and he was surprised to see the large LuthorCorp logo. Had Sliviuh already infiltrated his company? She had made a comment about knowing things two days into the future. Did that mean she had already been here for two days? With her abilities it was difficult to imagine what she could have already accomplished.

They were led around to the back of the truck and the large roll-up door was raised.

"Alright you two, get in there," said Sliviuh.

Lex helped Chloe up over the tall tailgate, as her formal gown was intended for dancing not clambering into trucks.

Jonathan gestured for them to move further forward. When they had complied, Lex expected one or both of the men to join them. But Jonathan merely reached up to the dangling strap and pulled the door down. Lex was certain Sliviuh would have wanted to prevent them from making any plans, but apparently that was not the case.

With a clang of finality, the door slammed shut, cutting off all light. Then as his eyes tried to adjust, he heard the external lock click into place.

Part 4

Clark had Sliviuh securely in his grasp when he felt the lightest touch on his arm. Even with his superhuman speed, everything went momentarily black before he could react. Then just as abruptly, he knew he was somewhere else.

His arms were empty and his first thought was to wonder how Sliviuh had managed it. Obviously her plan had been to separate him from the others. But he began to wonder why do that, rather than simply incapacitate him? Had she been serious about her comments? Did she really expect him to join her in her quest to rule the world? Then he remembered Sliviuh wasn't simply some reincarnation of a 10,000 year old Chloe. No, she had all of Chloe's memories, at least up to events in the Roman arena. And perhaps she still had some of Chloe's feelings towards him. Maybe she truly did hope to convince him to join her.

Clark's thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a voice out of the darkness. The voice seemed to come from everywhere, but it wasn't as though it was coming from speakers located all around him. No, it was as though the person speaking was moving from place to place in an instant. And if it was the person who had transported him here, it was probably true.

"Clark . . . don't . . . do . . . anything . . . rash . . . before . . . you . . . read . . . the . . . message . . . on . . . the . . . table . . . or . . . you . . . will . . . probably . . . end . . . up . . . regretting . . . it."

The voice was pleasantly female and it only took him a second to place it.

"Alicia, is that you? How did you do it? Why did you do it? Where are we?"

But his voice echoed back and he knew she was already gone.

Clark quickly glanced around him. The chamber he was in was large and mostly in darkness. The only light was coming from a sputtering gas lantern on a stone table at the far end of the chamber, at least seventy-five feet away. Clark cranked up his special vision and scanned the room using everything from infra-red to x-rays. He was immediately reminded of the secret temple chamber deep beneath the chateau back in Germany. Oh, this one wasn't covered in paintings and tapestries glorifying the demon realm, as the murals he was currently looking at were much more benign. But this room like the other was carved from solid rock deep underground with several rows of massive columns supporting the ceiling towering far above.

Taking Alicia's warning message to heart, he started to walk towards the table at the far end of the room. As he went, Clark looked up and extended his x-ray vision far beyond the limits of the chamber. And immediately, he knew where he was. For two hundred feet straight above his current position was the crouching form of the Giant Sphinx. And when he lowered his gaze towards the horizon in the direction in which he was walking, he could make out the Great Pyramid in the distance. He was definitely in Egypt.

While part of his mind processed this data, another part was still focused on Alicia. How had she moved him here in an instant? Obviously, she had to be a meteor freak with the gift of teleportation. And was that any harder to believe than the guys who had been able to walk through walls?

But how had Sliviuh known to enslave her? He had known Alicia slightly for years and had come to know her a lot better over the past couple of months since the events surrounding the Necrodemis flower had thrown them together. Yet he had never had any inkling Alicia was a meteor freak. If Sliviuh already knew about Alicia's gift, it had to mean Chloe had known about her, too. If that was the case, why hadn't Chloe told him? And if Chloe had known about her, for how long had she known? And had Alicia known about his special abilities before her encounter with Sliviuh? Well, if she had, she obviously hadn't told anyone.

Another part of Clark's enhanced mind was chastising himself for letting Sliviuh get him into this position. He should have known she wouldn't have simply walked into the storm cellar without a plan. He never should have given her the opportunity to talk. No, he should have grabbed her and then without dropping out of speed mode he should have grabbed the little black box and sped far away before stopping to use it on her.

But then he had to wonder if Sliviuh had been prepared for that eventuality, too. What did he know about the limits of Alicia's gift? Could she have tracked him where ever he went and then swooped in to retrieve Sliviuh when he paused to use the device? Sliviuh had seemed very confident, but was it because she was that certain of the outcome or just a result of her thousands of years of experience?

Clark realized it was pointless to 'armchair-quarterback' the events back in the storm cellar. He had screwed up and badly underestimated her. The important thing was to focus on the future and doing things better the next time.

He forced himself to pick up the pace as he continued moving towards the far end of the room. Even though he had had various aspects of his enhanced vision for almost six months, Clark was still most comfortable using his normal vision. And as he reached end of the room with the gas lantern, he almost stopped in shock as he realized the chamber was filled with more gleaming golden objects than he had ever seen. It was like the set of some old adventure movie where the hero enters the undisturbed crypt of some long lost Pharaoh. This chamber was filled with countless solid gold jars, vases, artworks, furniture, and a plethora of objects he didn't even recognize with only a brief glance. His x-ray vision told him most of the objects were solid gold not just mere gold-leaf. Without conscious thought, his mind supplied an estimate of nearly forty tons of gold in all.

However what stopped him in his tracks, as much as the fortune in gold, was the giant mural adorning the wall beyond the table with the lantern. It depicted the Sphinx sitting in a green river valley, just like the stained glass windows in Chloe's Solarium room back in ancient Rome – right down to her face on the Sphinx. One of the two murals was obviously based on the other and at the moment Clark would have bet money on this one being the original. This room simply felt ancient in a way Rome never had. Perhaps it was the fetid air which felt like it hadn't circulated in thousands of years. Or perhaps it was the way the lantern sputtered like there was barely enough oxygen down here to support the flame.

Forcing himself to move again, Clark quickly reached the stone table, which up close looked more like an altar than anything else. A number of gold relics had been haphazardly pushed aside to clear a space near the center. And in the center of this cleared space sat the lantern. Directly in front of the lantern was a folded piece of paper torn from a spiral notebook. Resting on top of the paper was an old-style pocket watch.

The watch looked vaguely familiar and when Clark picked it up, he couldn't suppress a loud gasp. The pocket watch was the old family heirloom his father always carried, which he had inherited from his grandfather, Clark's great grandfather. And the message the watch delivered was perfectly clear, Sliviuh had enslaved his father.

Quickly, Clark set the watch aside and picked up the paper.

GREETINGS CLARK,

I'M AFRAID YOU ARE A VERY LONG WAY FROM HOME, SO I HOPE YOU CAN SWIM AS FAST AS YOU CAN RUN.

Began the letter, and Clark felt a small smile cross his lips. Sliviuh didn't know about his ability to fly! He knew she had never seen him fly, as he had only been able to fly in 'speed mode' while she had still been in the past. But even without seeing him, she might have been able to extrapolate his ability based on other clues. But apparently she hadn't, which might provide him with an unexpected advantage he could exploit down the line.

Quickly he turned back to the message.

BUT BEFORE YOU GO HARRYING BACK TO SMALLVILLE, LET ME ASK A QUICK QUESTION. HAVE YOU EVER BEEN TO PARIS? IF YOU HAVEN'T, OR EVEN IF YOU HAVE, I THINK YOU MIGHT WANT TO STOP THERE FOR A QUICK VISIT. FOR YOU SEE, THIS AFTERNOON ALICIA AND I HAD THE MOST INTERESTING CHAT WITH SEVERAL FRENCH MILITARY MEN. AND AS A RESULT, THEY HAVE GENEROUSLY INSTALLED A NUCLEAR DEVICE ON THE EIFFEL TOWER JUST FOR LITTLE OLE ME. I DIDN'T WANT THEM TO GO TO TOO MUCH TROUBLE, SO NOTHING BIG AND FANCY, JUST FIFTY KILOTONS. I ESTIMATE IT WON'T KILL MORE THAN THIRTY-SEVEN THOUSAND PEOPLE. WELL, AT LEAST DURING THE INITIAL BLAST, THE COLLATERAL DAMAGE MAY PUSH THE TOTAL UP CLOSER TO SEVENTY-FIVE THOUSAND. ANYWAY, YOU MIGHT WANT TO MAKE A STOP IN PARIS BEFORE RETURNING TO SMALLVILLE. THE BOMB IS SET TO GO OFF AT 7:37. I HOPE YOUR FATHER'S WATCH IS ACCURATE.

GOOD LUCK, CLARK.

P.S. I DO HOPE YOU THINK SERIOUSLY ABOUT MY SUGGESTION OF JOINING ME. WE COULD HAVE AN ABSOLUTE BLAST RUNNING THE WORLD THE WAY IT SHOULD BE RUN. XOXOXO

Clark stared at the message for a moment. A nuke! Sliviuh was planning to set off a nuke! And he knew she wouldn't be bluffing. They had just been discussing how she had no regard for human life and she obviously wanted to ensure he didn't interfere with her plans back in Smallville.

Clark's eyes shot to the old pocket watch. It read 7:34. He had three minutes to get to Paris and figure out how to stop the bomb.

In one fluid motion Clark gathered up his father's pocket watch and slid it along with the handwritten note into the front pocket of his gray coveralls. By the time his hand cleared his pocket, his feet were already eight feet above the floor as he rocketed towards the ceiling. During his initial walk from the far end of the chamber, he had spotted the original entrance to the chamber. But it had long been backfilled with rock, which probably explained why this chamber had not yet been rediscovered. Since that old passage sloped gently upwards and had numerous twisting turns, it would be far quicker to simply create a new route which led more directly to the surface. Therefore almost without conscious thought, his body had headed towards the ceiling. However as he climbed, he angled his trajectory back towards the far end of the chamber. Then when he was ten feet short of the ceiling he cranked up his heat vision all the way and started to burn a passage like he had done so many times before in the past couple of weeks.

He continued to angle his trajectory until he finally burst through the surface directly between the front paws of the Giant Sphinx. He was momentarily blinded by the brilliant light, but then quickly passed back into near total darkness. After having been transported straight from early evening twilight in Smallville to the underground chamber, he had momentarily forgotten about the time difference here in Egypt. If it was 7:30 back home, it had to be around 3:30 in the morning here. The burst of light he had momentarily experienced had been nothing more than a bank of floodlights illuminating one of Egypt's great treasures.

He briefly considered pausing to fill in the gaping passageway he had left to the long lost chamber below, but decided he might need every available second in Paris. Besides, even if he filled it in, no way would it go unnoticed. No, at most it would buy a few days or weeks before the chamber was explored. Then he remembered how Chloe's face was clearly shown on the massive mural. If it was discovered, it would be on every news feed in the world within minutes. Someone, somewhere, would most definitely recognize her.

At this thought, his staggeringly fast pace did actually falter, but then he remembered the thirty-seven thousand plus potential victims waiting for his attention in Paris. It was very dark out and he was going to have to hope the new passageway wouldn't be discovered until morning, which should give him time to resolve the situation in Paris, get back to Smallville and solved the problems there, and still leave time to return. And besides, there were probably hundreds of depictions of Chloe's face down there scattered upon the various murals, sculptures, and decorative vases. It would take far more than the couple of seconds he could spare to ensure the chamber was completely sanitized. No, things here were definitely of lower priority than either Paris or Smallville, where lives were most definitely in jeopardy. And if Chloe's identity did end up being revealed, well they would just have to find someway to cope.

Therefore with the decision on what to do about the secret chamber in Egypt temporarily shelved, Clark turned northwest and accelerated hard while simultaneously pushing himself deep into the 'speed zone'. He might need every second he could shave off the travel time once he reached his destination.

To an outside observer, Clark's trip from Egypt to Paris would have taken just under five seconds. But from Clark's perspective, due to the peculiar physics of the 'speed zone', it felt more like twenty minutes.

He tried to use the time constructively. He hadn't received much useful information on French, or any other earthly nuclear weapon's design details during the massive data infusion he had received during the previous day's Purl Nous experience. Oh, he could now assemble a Kryptonese gravity beam weapon blindfolded, but that wasn't going to do much good in the current situation. And design details for atomic bombs hadn't been emphasized in the curriculum at Smallville High either. About all he could guess from his limited knowledge and the hints from the note was that the device was probably fairly small, most likely in the range of a large suitcase. He remembered from somewhere that the tower was around a thousand feet tall. Finding a suitcase sized object in that mass of steel girders might be like looking for a needle in the proverbial haystack. He wondered if his unique senses could detect the special radiation put out by uranium or plutonium or whatever radioactive material was used for the bomb's power source. He had never had occasion to try before.

Quickly Clark turned his attention to the glittering surface of the sea far below. He thought the United States Navy frequently had a carrier task force in the Eastern Mediterranean and if he could locate it, he could try and spot the nuclear weapons carried on board or even the nuclear reactors which powered the mighty ships. And if there wasn't carrier group, there would certainly be nuclear-powered submarines from one or more of the American, French, English, or Russian Navies.

It took five minutes of his apparent travel time to finally spot his first submarine. And rather than its nuclear reactor or its atomic-tipped missiles, it was the massive electromagnetic field put out by all the electronics that first drew his attention. Fortunately, with that flag providing a focus point for his attention, he closed his eyes and explored the area with his other senses. Strangely enough, the unique sensation he discovered about the submerged vessel appeared in his brain through his sense of taste rather than as some variation of his sense of sight that he had expected. Somehow the radiation he was picking up triggered a sensation, which more than anything reminded him of tasting a slice of orange covered in peanut butter. Most odd.

Once he knew what to look for, he quickly located three more submarines as well as a spot on land off to his right which had to be a power plant somewhere in southern Italy. Satisfied he would be able to locate the device once he reached Paris, Clark tried to focus on what would happen next. But beyond the device's timer, he had no idea what else to expect. He knew from the movies that bombs could be rigged up with all kinds of anti-tamper devices like motion sensors, temperature sensors, and possibly even radiation sensors that could detect his x-ray vision. Could he disable the device without accidentally setting it off?

Then he remembered the bomb Nixon had tried to use to blow up his old pickup. That device had gone off, but Clark had been fast enough to remove the fuel tank before bomb's wave front had propagated beyond its boundaries. How fast would the explosion from an atomic bomb propagate? Could he remove it to a safe distance once the nuclear chain reaction had begun? Perhaps once he found it, if he did everything in 'speed mode', he could get the device clear before any anti-tamper mechanisms could react.

Feeling a little better that he could probably detect the device and remove it before it could trigger, Clark let his mind wander to other topics as a large island swept by far below and a broad coastline, which had to be the French Riviera, started to come into view. And while he should have been planning what to do when he returned to Smallville, he instead found himself thinking about Sliviuh's 'lead panties' comment and how it had felt when she had rubbed her butt against his crotch.

He had thought seeing Sliviuh in Lana's body would have been similar to seeing Laura in Lana's body back in ancient Rome. But this had somehow been much hotter and more provocative. Then thinking back, he suddenly realized Laura had almost never touched him except in emergency situations. Had Laura had feelings for him, but refrained from acting on them since she was trapped in Lex's girlfriend's body? Sometimes he almost had to remind himself that Laura was really Chloe, as she seemed so different – more cool and clinical. But inside, she had still been Chloe, so of course she would have had feelings for him. How much had it cost her to see the other 'real' Chloe with him while she had been forced to stay away? Once again, he was forced to wonder how much of those feelings were in Sliviuh, too. Could he use that to his advantage? Or would it ultimately be to his detriment? Because Chloe in Lana's body was like some secret fantasy and if Sliviuh had rubbed her ass against him for five more seconds, she might have had more to comment on than just 'lead panties'.

For a second Clark couldn't suppress a grin. She did find the most erotic way of telling him she had guessed about the lead lining Var and he had so carefully applied to this pair of coveralls. Still, if he ever got passed this current situation and back to his 'regular' life, something similar would be handy for his frequent bouts with meteor freaks. Could they, with more than one day's notice, come up with some coating or suit that he could wear under his normal clothing? Hmm . . .

His musings, while not entirely productive, had served to fill the travel time. For when he looked forward into the distance, he could see a white glow stretching almost from horizon to horizon. It had to be Paris and the old 'City of Lights' moniker appeared to fit it well.

Clark began a steady descent from the eighty thousand foot altitude where he had been flying. As he swept over the edge of the city, he easily picked out the Eiffel Tower. It dominated the skyline of the central part of the great city standing at least twice as tall as any competing structure. And somehow its shape and brilliant gaudy lighting made Clark think of it as some giant sparkly Christmas tree. Of course, this tree currently possessed one extremely dangerous ornament, and if he didn't find it quickly, a whole lot of people were going to have a very, very bad day. And if he wasn't careful that might even include him. He knew his body was unbelievable tough, but could even it survive inside a nuclear fireball? He didn't know and certainly wanted to avoid finding out the hard way, if at all possible.

Swooping down, Clark spotted many of the brilliantly lit landmarks: The Arc de Triomphe, The Notre Dame Cathedral on the Ile-de-la Cite Island in the center of the Seine, The Louvre. Towering over them all was his destination: The Eiffel Tower.

It was two-thirty in the morning. Even for a Saturday night in Paris, life was beginning to wind down. Stores and most restaurants were shuttered; only bars and nightclubs were still open. While the Tower was ablaze with light, it should be almost vacant; its two main restaurants had been closed for over three hours and even the observation deck had been closed for almost two.

Clark performed two spiraling loops around the Tower as he descended, focusing his new found senses for traces of radioactivity. Halfway through the second loop he 'tasted' a hot spot near the western side of the second level – in an area to one side of the 'Le Jules Verne' restaurant. As he moved closer he realized the hot spot wasn't actually on the second level, but in the supporting girders directly below.

He brought his full range of senses into play before moving too close, in the hopes he might spot any external anti-tampering sensors before he triggered them. However what he actually spotted was the heat signatures of a large group of human bodies. Roughly twenty people were clustered within fifty feet of where his senses told him the bomb was located.

Had Sliviuh left a sacrificial set of guards stationed around the device? Quickly Clark scanned the area for meteor rocks, but didn't find any. It didn't at first make any sense. He knew from the tenor of her note that she didn't really intend to blow up Paris. No, it was just a way to keep him distracted while she did whatever it was she intended with Lex, Chloe, and his Mom. So, a large group of guards didn't seem to make sense. Sliviuh knew they wouldn't slow Clark down. And besides too many people milling around would just draw the wrong type of attention whereas a couple men in workmen's clothing could have easily moved the small device in and set it up without anyone noticing.

No, the large group most likely wasn't from Sliviuh, which probably meant someone else had discovered the bomb before he had arrived. And whoever it was, they must have called in the police. The $64,000 question was – could they disarm it in time without any help from him?

He had to know for certain, before he could simply allow the clock to wind down to zero. And then a second thought struck him – was there another message from Sliviuh he needed to see?

Before moving closer, Clark pulled his father's pocket watch from his pocket to verify how much time was remaining, as traveling for so long so deep in the 'speed zone' made judging the passage of time in the real world a little tricky. He was momentarily startled when he saw it read 7:59, over twenty minutes passed the deadline. Just for a moment he wondered if the whole bomb threat had been a fake before he realized that since the watch had been in his pocket, it had experienced the same time distortion he had when deep within the 'speed zone'. Abruptly, he shoved the watch back into his pocket, it wasn't' going to be of any value for telling time in the 'real' world.

He was just starting to move closer to the Tower when the full implications of the 7:59 on the watch sank in. He thought he had until the very last second to remove the bomb to a safe distance, but that might not be the case. If he came into physical contact with the bomb, it might be just like what had happened with the watch. It would be sucked into his personal field and time for the bomb would seem to speed up. He might actual cause it to explode when he tried to move it to safety.

Clark moved closer to where he felt the bomb was located but paused before getting close enough to touch anything to give himself a little more time to think back to his previous experiences while in 'speed mode'. With the bomb in the gas tank of his old truck, his contact had been brief – just while he had been tearing loose the mounting brackets and then while moving the tank. But if the whole tank had been moved into his accelerated frame of reference, the tank still should have fire-balled. Since it didn't there must be a reason. After considering it for a few moments, he concluded it must have been because the explosion was propagating through a liquid rather than a solid. Somehow the fluid must not have been shifted while the surrounding metal tank had been.

Then he thought back to events during the sinking of the battleship Hitler. During its initial plunge to the bottom, merely pushing against the bow of the mighty ship hadn't had any appreciable effect. It wasn't until he had pressed his hands into the metal of the hull that whatever field his body put out had expanded to encompass the whole ship. Then once it had been lofted into the sky and he had removed his hands, it had shifted back to 'normal' mode. And it had stayed there throughout the ensuing rescue efforts when he and Var had removed all of the survivors. Apparently, burning countless holes through the superstructure hadn't been sufficient to cause it to shift back into his 'speed zone' field.

Size and material properties seemed to affect how objects shifted into his personal field. However a nuclear bomb didn't seem like the best object to use for some field experiments. No, he had best get to it with the most possible time remaining and then minimize the time he was in physical contact.

While a part of his mind had been studying the issues of how to use his 'speed zone' gift to its best advantage, another part of his mind had been studying the situation with the bomb.

The bomb was enclosed in a black metal case and was located in the lattice work of girders supporting the second main level of the tower. It was about twenty feet from the western edge of the structure and would have been well camouflaged in the maze of shadows created by the external lights illuminating the great tower if not for the battery of temporary floodlights set up in its immediate vicinity.

Of the twenty people he had originally spotted in the bomb's general area, fifteen were up on the second level while five were down in supporting structure. Two men appeared to be working on the bomb, or at least had removed one of the outer panel; while the other three were positioned to form a relay to pass forward any additional equipment that might be required.

Clark wove his way passed the three 'frozen in place' relay men and moved up next to the two men at the bomb. For a moment he simply hovered in place as he studied the situation. The men had already removed one access cover and one of them was frozen with a hand extended inside. Peering passed the man's shoulder, Clark could make out a mass of wiring that looked like so much multi-colored spaghetti. Intermingled with the wiring was an array of mechanical devices from cams to gears to linkages. However dominating his attention was a large red LED display. The display was lit with several sequences of numbers, but at first glance it was obvious which one was the timer. Currently, its big red digits were frozen at one minute thirty seven seconds.

On the one hand, Clark hated to give away his presence to these people, as it could possibly result in a complete loss of privacy for himself and his family. But on the other hand, if they were moments away from disarming the device, it would be better to let them finish than taking the additional risk of moving the device. Deciding minimizing the risk was more important than having his secret revealed, Clark reached up with one hand, grabbed a support beam, and dropped back to 'normal mode'. At least at first glance by hanging from his right hand he wouldn't appear to be hovering magically in mid-air, even if he would have seemed to suddenly appear out of nowhere.

"ARE YOU GOING TO BE ABLE TO DISARM IT IN TIME?" asked Clark in French with all the power and authority he could project based on his experiences of the past few weeks. Hopefully, the commanding tone would elicit a response before the shock of his miraculous appearance sank in. And he was suddenly thankful for the language skills Var had included in the Purl Nous procedure. At least some good was coming from it since so far the supposedly enhanced mental skills hadn't proved to be of much value in his struggle against Sliviuh.

"No," responded the man, whose arm was deep inside the device. The other man was staring at Clark in shock, but the first man hadn't yet looked up from the task he was performing inside the large box. "If I had ten more minutes, maybe, but I am having to cut too many corners and am just as likely to set it off myself."

Clark briefly considered pulling the man into the 'speed zone' to give him more time. But he had never successfully managed it before. Not that he had particularly tried. But when he had moved Indy and the others from place to place via the 'Transporter Effect', none of them had ever gone into 'speed mode'. After the knowledge and skills he had gained from the Purl Nous, he thought it should now be possible. But again, did he want to make his first attempts while a bomb was about to go off?

"THEN YOU BETTER LET ME HANDLE THINGS. ARE THERE ANY ANTI-TAMPER TRIGGERS TO WORRY ABOUT?"

The man pulled his arm clear of the device and turned in the direction of Clark's voice. Sweat was dripping off the man's face and the first signs of defeat and panic were setting in around his eyes. "Who . . . who are you?"

"IT IS NOT IMPORTANT NOW. ANTI-TAMPER TRIGGERS?" Clark prompted again. "CAN THE BOMB BE MOVED?"

The man didn't respond, but simply stared at Clark.

"WHAT IS YOUR NAME?" commanded Clark in a tone that demanded a response. Hopefully, if he could get him talking again the man could get passed the shock he was sinking into with death mere seconds away.

"Jacques. Jacques Alexandre."

"Okay, Jacques. This is very important. Are there any anti-tamper triggers?" Clark asked in a more normal tone.

Jacques swallowed hard and then answered. "I have all of the motion sensors disabled except for a pair running a current through the support beam it is attached to. They are buried in epoxy and I can't get at them to rig a bypass."

"If the support beam is moved with the bomb, can it be moved?"

"Yeah, but there is no way to unbolt and remove a twenty ton beam in less than a minute," Jacques answered in a ragged tone, the hopelessness of the situation starting to take hold of him again.

Clark quickly scanned the surrounding area for the best place to cut the big beam with his heat vision. The trickiest part was going to be how to thread it and the bomb out of the maze of girders. Then he realized he was running out of time to be subtle; he was going to have to melt a path straight through until he was clear. Hopefully, the Tower had a lot of redundant structure and his action wouldn't bring it crashing down.

"MOVE BACK AND GRAB HOLD OF SOMETHING SOLID," Clark commanded as he began burning through the massive beam ten feet beyond the bomb. As soon as he was through, he grabbed the beam just in front of the bomb and then cut through the beam ten feet on this side of it also. Almost instantly the massive beam was free and with one hand Clark held the combination bomb plus beam in place.

One part of his mind was keeping count and there was now forty-five seconds until the nuke would explode. Time enough for one last question.

"WAS THERE A MESSAGE WITH THE DEVICE?"

Jacques was staring at the white-hot cut ends of the beam where molten iron was still dripping free before making the long two hundred foot plunge to the ground below. With agonizing slowness he nodded. "The terrorists left a note, but it is in some kind of code. The 'suits' up above are working on it."

No time to retrieve Sliviuh's note now, thought Clark. He was going to have to come back for it after he disposed of the bomb.

Turning his gaze in the shortest direction out of the Tower's structure, Clark cranked his heat vision up to high and started burning a path even has he accelerated the twenty ton beam faster and faster. Within ten seconds he was finally in the clear and drove himself harder than ever before. His body automatically wanted to dip deep into the 'speed zone', but he forced himself to resist, as he knew that might simply accelerate the bomb's detonation.

Pushing hard, Clark accelerated the great mass faster and higher. When the countdown in his head reached five seconds, Clark flung the beam and its deadly payload up as hard as he could. After releasing it, he finally had time to take in his surroundings. The sky was pitch-black all around him with the only tinges of lighter color far, far below. More than anything the view reminded him of photos taken from the shuttle in low earth orbit. He knew he was higher than he had ever been in the week since he had learned to fly, but could he really be a hundred miles up and completely outside of the earth's atmosphere?

Turning his attention back up in the direction he had tossed the beam, he quickly spotted it, as at that moment it passed out of the Earth's shadow and into the blazing sunlight. The black device and dark colored beam suddenly seemed to gleam against the absolutely black sky only possible here outside the atmosphere.

The pair was already at least twenty miles from Clark's position, but Clark still wasn't comfortable with allowing the bomb to go off if he could possibly avoid it. Who knew what damage shrapnel from the blast might cause to orbital satellites or even to things down on the ground. Using his newly fine-tuned telescopic vision in conjunction with his heat vision, Clark sent a focused blast of energy directly into the plutonium core of the bomb. Instantly, a two inch diameter chunk of the core was vaporized and sent blasting out the far side of the device. This alone would have been sufficient to drop the bomb below critical mass, but Clark continued to sweep his powerful gaze across the core until it was completely reduced to an expanding cloud of individual atoms. Then Clark widened the beam of power projecting from his eyes and continued pumping energy into the cloud until electrons were stripped away from nuclei and nuclei were broken up into smaller, more stable elements.

Finally, after almost a minute of intense effort, Clark allowed his heat vision to dwindle away to nothing. Then with barely a pause, he pointed his body back down and dove towards the surface and the waiting note from Sliviuh. For less than five minutes had elapsed since Alicia had deposited him in the secret chamber below the Giant Sphinx and doubtlessly Sliviuh would want him out of the way for longer than that. As he tore back to Paris and the Eiffel Tower, he wondered what distraction Sliviuh had planned next.

Clark made the return journey to Paris deep in 'speed zone'. The total travel time didn't feel much different to him, but he knew in the outside world less than a second would pass compared to the nearly one minute of the outbound journey.

When he reached the tower he dropped lightly onto the deck of the second level, but remained in 'speed mode'. It would take less time to search for the message this way plus he didn't want to reveal his presence to any more people, if he could avoid it. Already Jacques Alexandre and possibly several of the other men who had been working on the bomb might be able to give an accurate description of him, but no point in compounding the problem.

Most of the people standing on the exposed portion of the deck were staring up into the dark sky. They must have seen his departure and were still waiting for the bomb's explosion. Great. If his departure had been unnoticed, it would have been only the word of the five men below about what had happened. And their story about a man flying and also burning through iron beams would have been almost impossible to believe. But if another dozen people had seen him fly off into the night sky while carrying the giant beam and the bomb, it was going to be that much harder for them to put it down to some kind of group hysteria.

Steadily Clark searched everyone present and then also searched through the seemingly countless black duffle bags of equipment scattered around the area. He eventually found the access panel which had been removed from the bomb, but there wasn't a trace of anything that looked like a note from Sliviuh.

Cranking up his x-ray vision, Clark scanned the surrounding area. Immediately he spotted another half dozen people inside the restaurant gathered around a couple of tables filled with laptop computers and communication gear.

Clark ran around to the front entrance of the restaurant and then sprinted inside. One man standing near the first table full of equipment was holding the note. He was frozen in mid-gesture and was obviously talking to the man and woman standing in front of him. As Clark peered over the man's shoulder at the message, he could see the screens on several of the computers in his peripheral vision. He instantly realized they were displaying scanned versions of the message. And if these computers had copies, then they could already have been forwarded to countless other places. Retaining his anonymity was looking harder and harder. And that was before he even saw the contents of the message.

HI CLARK!

IF YOU ARE READING THIS, YOU MUST HAVE MADE IT TO PARIS IN TIME. BUT THEN I KNEW YOU WOULD. I AM SURE THE POTENTIAL DEATHS OF TENS OF THOUSANDS WAS A POWERFUL MOTIVATOR FOR YOU.

HOW DO YOU LIKE THE WELCOMING COMMITTEE? I GAVE THEM A CALL BEFORE HEADING OUT TO YOUR FARM, SO THEY WOULD HAVE PLENTY OF TIME TO UNDERSTAND THE SITUATION BEFORE YOU ARRIVED. SINCE I (OR WE, IF YOU HAVE RECONSIDERED MY OFFER) WILL HAVE CONTROL OF THE PLANET WITHIN A FEW DAYS ANYWAY, I DECIDED TODAY IS AS GOOD OF TIME AS ANY TO LET THE PEOPLE OF THE WORLD KNOW THAT GODS ARE WALKING AMONG THEM. AND I AM SURE WHATEVER METHOD YOU USED TO DISPOSE OF THE BOMB WILL HELP CONVINCE THEM OF THE FACT.

'Shit, shit, shit!' thought Clark, as he couldn't help but be distracted from his reading for a moment. He had never considered that Sliviuh might 'out' his secret. But then she had played the 'gods among men' game several times before in her long life. So why not use Clark's abilities against him? Since she couldn't possibly exchange blood with every political and military leader in the world in a mere couple of days, part of her plan had to be based on the old 'smoke and mirrors.' And he had just unintentionally provided a good dash of it in support of her cause. Damn, she had planned things out a lot more than he had expected. How many other things had she already set into motion? He was finally starting to grasp the near limitless potential her computer enhanced mind gave her.

Forcing his attention back to Sliviuh's note, he read on.

I AM SURE YOU HAVE GUESSED I NEED TO KEEP YOU OCCUPIED FOR A LITTLE WHILE LONGER. SO THE NEXT STOP ON YOUR WORLD TOUR IS VICTORIA FALLS ON THE ZAMBEZI RIVER IN SOUTHERN AFRICA ON THE BORDER BETWEEN ZAMBIA AND ZIMBABWE. THIS IS ONE OF THE BIGGEST WATERFALLS IN THE WORLD BASED ON TOTAL VOLUME AND WITH A DROP OF THREE HUNDRED SIXTY FEET, IT ISN'T A SLOUCH IN THAT AREA EITHER. NOW, WHY WOULD YOU BE MOTIVATED TO GO THERE, I AM SURE YOU ARE ASKING YOURSELF. WELL, CLARK, MY NEW BEST FRIEND ALICIA (OH, DID I MENTION SHE WILL BE A PART OF MY PANTHEON OF GODS RULING THE PLANET? AND SHE MIGHT EVEN BE AT MY RIGHT HAND IF YOU TURN DOWN THE POSITION. SO THINK CAREFULLY ABOUT IT, CLARK.) HAS TELEPORTED YOUR MOTHER INTO A SMALL BOAT JUST ABOVE THE FALLS. DEPENDING ON THE VAGRATIES OF THE CURRENTS, THE BOAT SHOULD MAKE ITS FATAL PLUNGE AT 7:40. SO YOU MIGHT WANT TO HURRY, AS I HAVE ALWAYS LIKED HER AND WOULD HATE TO SEE ANYTHING BAD HAPPEN TO HER.

LOVE AND KISSES,

SLIVIUH

His Mom! Sliviuh had taken his Mom!

Clark felt anger boiling up inside him like he hadn't felt in a long time. He didn't think he had felt an emotion quite like this since the time he found Chloe and Lana executed in the Roman arena. Oh, he had been scared after the virus from his ship had made the jump from Lex to Chloe, but at the time it had seemed to have been caused by a malfunction of his ship, and it was impossible to hate an inanimate object like it was possible to hate a person. He had truly hated Venta back in Rome for what he had done to the girls and hadn't been too upset to find out how Venta had met his demise. And now, suddenly, he was starting to feel a similar anger and hatred toward Sliviuh. It had seemed almost like a game, however putting strangers or himself in danger was one thing, doing it to his mother was something completely different.

He felt the anger continue to rise, but he knew he had to keep it under control. This wasn't the time or place for a repeat of what had happened back in the arena. 'Focus, Clark, focus,' he told himself.

Scanning the room he quickly spotted the large map of Africa spread out across the second table. He must have seen it when he arrived, but it hadn't registered as important. Now he raced over and started looking for the words 'Victoria Falls'. Fortunately, someone had already circled them in red, which made them easy to spot. Once he found it, he ran his finger over to the edges of the chart to read off the latitude and longitude. One part of the mental gift Var had included in the Purl Nous was how to interpret the signals coming from the GPS satellites and then how to do the necessary math in his head to calculate his position. Now he should be able to fly the most direct path possible to the falls.

Straightening up from the chart, his eyes fell on the row of computers set up on the next table over. All of them were running Windows and were displaying the time in the lower right corners. Two of the machines were showing 02:39 and one was showing 02:38. Factoring in the seven hour time difference from Smallville meant two out of the three machines said he had less than a minute and that wasn't even including Sliviuh's 'vagraties in the current' remark.

Clark instantly launched himself into the air on the most direct path possible. He didn't even bother wasting the miniscule amount of time needed to use his heat vision to bore him a path. No, he simply slammed straight through the ceiling of the restaurant without slowing. He then punched straight through one of the massive support trusses which kept the upper structure erect. For a moment he almost didn't care if the mighty tower collapsed or not. But then after he cleared the structure and continued to climb almost straight up, he did open his senses for a moment and studied the tower. He could literally feel the strains and loads in the truss work change and flow until a new equilibrium was reached and he knew the damage he had caused via his abrupt passage and the earlier removal of the bomb supporting beam were neither going to cause the famous tower to collapse.

Gustave Eiffel's masterpiece was already dwindling beneath him as he turned his senses up towards the sky above. Instantly Clark began scanning for the GPS satellites in their low, fast orbits. Hopefully, he wouldn't need their services to find the Victoria Falls as truly accessing them would require dropping out of 'speed zone' and back to normal time to read their real-time signals. But at the moment, it seemed the best use of his time while making the long journey. Because at a guess, the falls were almost twice as far from Paris as the Giant Sphinx and the journey from there had felt like about twenty minutes. So it would probably be closer to forty minutes from his perspective before he would reach his current destination.

Since he had plenty of time and since searching for satellites in the sky didn't require his full attention, Clark forced down his still seething anger towards Sliviuh and reviewed this new message from her for any additional useful data. And the first thing that came to mind was her remark about establishing a 'pantheon of gods' to rule the world. She had distinctly included him and Alicia, but three hardly seemed to meet the definition of 'pantheon'. So who else could she be referring to? Alicia's teleportation ability had to be derived from meteor rocks just like so many of the other superhuman abilities he had run across during the past year. And that in turn implied a couple of things. First, it said all or at least some of the meteor freaks were just as vulnerable to attack by Sliviuh's 'bots as normal humans. And second, it implied Sliviuh had or was planning to recruit more meteor freaks, which was a very scary thought. Many of the meteor freaks he had encountered had only been defeated because they either didn't think about the longer-term consequences of their actions or had simply been driven insane. If they hadn't been half crazed or trapped in the ultimate 'me generation' moment, they would have been far more dangerous. But he now knew from experience that planning ahead was one of Sliviuh's greatest strengths. Hell, she was quite capable of planning so far ahead, she could choose to wait to implement a plan until all of her adversaries had died of old age.

Not that she appeared to be taking the slow path in this instance. No, she was pushing forward as fast as she could, almost as though she was working to some kind of secret deadline. Why else would she have made her move at the earliest possible moment after the timeloop had been completed? Surely the smart move would have been to wait a few days or weeks until their guard was down. Hell, she could have simply disappeared for a few years while she consolidated her position and then she could have presented her conquest of the planet as a fait accompli. And in the meantime Clark and Chloe would have been trapped with the ongoing task of regularly testing all the important world political and military leaders for signs of nanobot contamination. So, why had she acted so quickly?

At the moment he didn't have enough information to make any useful guesses, but he would have to keep the question in mind when he read any additional messages from her. Somehow, if he could understand her motivation for attacking when she did, it felt like he would have the solution to the whole situation.

Forcing himself to leave that train of thought for a future time when he had more data, Clark turned his attention to another very troubling aspect of her latest message and the events at the Tower. Namely, the high potential he was about to have his simple life as a high school student in Smallville ripped away from him. She hadn't quite used the message as a flaming arrow pointing straight at him since she hadn't mentioned Smallville by name and hadn't divulged any last names. But still the message had contained almost enough clues to allow some big government agency with nearly unlimited manpower to use a brute force solution to find him – particularly if he had been caught on video. Most of his time had been in 'speed mode' which should have left him immune. But he had spent many seconds in real time while he was in the substructure with the bomb. Had he been caught by any cameras with long-range telephoto lenses? Damn, they had been wrestling with a nuke. Of course they would have been monitoring progress from a distance. Well, if they had photos of his face, he was going to be that much easier to identify.

How could he salvage his everyday life if some government agency became aware of his secret? And even more importantly, how would he prevent his family and friends from being held hostage to force him to do their bidding? How was he going to ensure he controlled his own destiny?

For a moment he wondered if Sliviuh's 'Pantheon of Gods' was more or less the answer. Instead of risking just some shadowy governmental agencies knowing his secret, perhaps he should just exclaim it to the world. If everyone knew, would it lessen the risks to his family? Of course, it would require a careful balance to intimidate people enough to convince them to leave him alone without stepping over the line and ending up the tyrant Sliviuh wanted to be.

He wished there was some middle ground that would allow him to retain his personal life yet would still allow him to act when necessary without fear of discovery. If he got through the current situation with his secret intact, he would have to give it some more careful thought. Perhaps Var would have some useful thoughts on the subject; certainly Var had had plenty of time over the past fifty years to contemplate this topic.

Turning his gaze down, Clark could tell from the pattern of lights that he had to be passing over the Mediterranean Sea. This journey certainly would have been easier if it wasn't the middle of the night. But the choice hadn't been his, so now he would have to just do his best under the circumstances. Of course, his best HAD to be good enough to save his mom or it would all be pointless.

Since all he had to go on was the brief glimpse of the map of Africa back at the Tower, he had decided it was necessary to get a bird's eye view to make the dark ground below look as much like the map as possible. Well, perhaps 'bird's eye view' wasn't completely accurate. He was currently flying at almost the altitude where he had so recently destroyed the bomb. And from a hundred miles up, the continent of Africa sprawled before him almost like the illustrated map. In the foreground was the brilliantly lit Mediterranean coastline of Algeria, Tunisia, and Libya. But not far beyond the coast the great Sahara desert spread from horizon to horizon and the number of lights coming from towns and villages became few and far between. And then past the great desert stretched the tropical jungles of Central Africa and again the bright lights symbolizing the presence of man were rare. No, only along the coastlines did the great continent of Africa have significant lights. Fortunately, the distinctive shape of Africa was easily discernable from its nearly solid outline of lights. It should be sufficient to at least get him close to his destination.

Quickly, Clark raced passed the coastline and headed into the heart of the great continent.

- + - + - + - +

After what felt like another twenty minutes of travel, Clark thought he was in the right place, or at least as close as he could guess from a hundred miles up. Knowing this wasn't the time for hesitation; he pointed his body down and dove hard for the target region. As he remembered how the nose and belly of the space shuttle glowed white hot during re-entry, he marveled once again how he didn't experience anything similar considering he was re-entering the atmosphere at five, hell, maybe ten times the shuttle's 18,000 mph. No, other than a slight ruffling of his hair, he didn't experience any noticeable effect. And glancing down at his gray coveralls, he realized it was a good thing he did experience Shuttle-like heating or he would be doing all of this flying around buck naked. But other than some tears in the sleeves at the forearms, doubtlessly acquired during his hasty departure from the Eiffel Tower, his coveralls didn't look the worse for wear and tear.

Turning his attention from his attire and back down towards the ground where it belonged, Clark started scanning for the river and its associated waterfall. Even in the middle of the night, it shouldn't be that hard to spot a waterfall that was apparently in the size range of Niagara. But after spending several 'speed zone' minutes rapidly tracing out a spiral search pattern from the center of his target region, he decided he was going to have to drop out of the 'speed zone' and back to normal time long enough to grab a quick GPS fix on his location.

It took five precious seconds in normal time to collect the data he needed from the satellites. Then just as he was about to return to the 'speed zone' to more leisurely calculate and then recheck his position relative to the falls, his super hearing registered the faint low frequency roar which had to be coming from his destination. Without conscious thought his body automatically turned and headed on a beeline path towards his goal.

Twelve miles away and forty-seven from his original target spot, he found it. And immediately he realized why he hadn't spotted it earlier; its shape wasn't at all like what he had expected. He thought it was going to be like the photos he had seen of Niagara with a wide, similarly-sized river both above and below the falls. But this one was completely different. From overhead it looked almost like the broad river was disappearing into a wide slot in the ground. But this was indeed the falls and the impression of the river simply disappearing in the ground was mostly an optical illusion due to the relatively narrow chasm which the water had cut into the rock in such a way that it was possible to stand on a natural bluff less than two hundred feet in front of the sheet of descending water before it exited the chasm via a deep narrow gorge.

Knowing there would be plenty of time later to marvel at the odd geology which had caused this almost hidden falls, Clark quickly turned his attention to scanning the waters immediately above the falls for any signs of a small boat. Quickly he ran his senses through the complete gamut of frequencies he was able to detect, but other than some large pieces of driftwood he didn't see anything of the right size and shape to be a boat.

With fear clenching at his heart, he turned his attention directly to the falls. Was he too late? No, he HAD to be in time.

While deep in the 'speed zone' the water descending along the face of the falls formed an almost solid mass that made detection of anything within very difficult. Therefore Clark flew down to the falls near one end and pushed his body directly into the wall of water. Once inside, he turned and headed towards the far other end of the falls nearly a mile in the distance. And as he flew, he kept his arms extended out from his sides as though this pose would enhance his already incredible sensory skills.

He was two-thirds of the way down the falls when he finally spotted what he had come for: a small aluminum boat was hanging limply inverted, seemingly frozen in the solid wall of water. However he knew it wasn't peacefully adrift, but rather if he dropped back into 'normal time' he would find it madly tumbling out of control.

His anger at Sliviuh once again was rising for not having given him at least one more minute to reach his mom before letting her tip over the falls. But then his thoughts jumped back to his Mom. Was she already dead from drowning or suffocation in the heavy wall of water? Or had the probable bone-shattering intensity of the water killed her before she had time to drown?

Quickly he swung below the inverted boat having already verified with his enhanced x-ray vision that his mother was still with the craft having been securely tied to the pair of cross-bracing seats. Carefully, he stretched out his arms and grabbed the wet and slippery sides of the boat. Tightening his grip, he began forcing it towards the outer edge of the falls. As he moved, he did the math in his head and realized his mother hadn't been within the falls for more than three or four seconds. Certainly, she wouldn't be dead from drowning at this point. And if her small boat hadn't struck any rocks going over the edge, and he didn't see any significant damage to the craft, then she might be in no worse shape than slightly daze from the rough and tumbling passage down the face of the falls. And probably scared to death, he thought. His mom was one of the strongest, toughest people he had ever known, but going over a giant falls while tied to a small boat was enough to make anyone blanch.

As soon as he had the boat clear of the cascading water, Clark began to climb higher into the air to clear the looming opposite wall of the chasm. As he gained a little altitude in his search for a safe, dry location to set down the boat, he spotted off to his left a truss-work bridge crossing the downstream gorge. And following with his eyes the road extending from bridge, he spotted a small parking lot next to a rickety old gift shop. And mounted on the side of the gift shop was a security light providing the only illumination for miles around here in the heart of Africa.

Clark headed over and after giving the area a quick sweep for signs of life, he flipped upside down which left the boat right side up. Then while appearing to be suspended by his feet from some invisible cable, he gently lowered the boat to the roughly paved surface of the parking lot. It wasn't until he released his grip on the boat and swung around to kneel beside it on the ground that he finally allowed himself to drop out of the 'speed zone'.

"Mom," he called out softly while trying to keep the panic out of his voice. "Can you hear me?" he asked, as he gently brushed the wet auburn hair out of her eyes. "You're safe now."

Martha's eyes flashed open and wildly danced around before finally settling on his face. "Clark, is it really you?"

"Yes, Mom, it's me. Hold still a second while I get rid of these ropes."

Martha was stretched across the two seats in the small boat which was nothing more than a rowboat or small skiff. Her arms were tied beneath the bench under her back and her legs were tied over the top of the second seat. Being careful not to hurt her, Clark grasped the ropes restraining her feet and easily snapped them in two. Then reaching behind her back he repeated the process on the ropes binding her arms.

"How did you get here?" asked Martha throwning her arms around him and pulling him into a tight hug as Clark tried to help her up into a sitting position. "And how did I get here? And where exactly are we?"

"What do you remember, Mom?" asked Clark as he returned her hug. He suddenly felt so good knowing she was safe and alive.

"We were down in the root cellar – you, me, Lex and Chloe – when Lana showed up. You grabbed Lana and then abruptly you just vanished. Then a few seconds later it was like a ghost touched me and suddenly I was no longer in the storm cellar but standing along the edge of a wide river and it was the middle of the night.

"And then I realized a girl was standing beside me. When I turned towards her, the moonlight lit her face and I realized it was Alicia Baker. I don't think I have talked to her since the day a couple of months ago when we ran into her in the hospital outside Jonathan's room and at the time she struck me as a nice girl. But just then I had barely had time to recognize her when she suddenly hit me and knocked me to the ground. Before I knew what had happened, she had me tied to the boat and then gave it a shove out into the current."

When Martha paused for breath, Clark answered. "Alicia has been brainwashed by Sliviuh and that's why she is doing the things she is doing."

"Sliviuh?" asked Martha with a glazed look on her face as her eyes swept the area, as though she was expecting another boogey man or perhaps boogey girl to materialize out of thin air.

"Remember Mom, we were talking about her back in the root cellar. She is an ancient evil variation of Chloe's personality that is currently in possession of Lana's body."

But it was almost as if Martha didn't hear him, perhaps due to the shock of the events she had just gone through or maybe due to the ongoing information overload from the preceding conversation back in the cellar. "Clark, where are we?"

"We are in either Zambia or Zimbabwe. I am not sure which side of the river we are on."

When his Mom just stared at him blankly, he appended. "Africa, Mom. We are in Africa."

At last a hint of comprehension showed on Martha's face. "Africa? But how did we get here?"

As Clark was talking to his Mom, one of his hands had drifted into the front left pocket of his coveralls. When it came back out he realized he had his cellphone in his hand. He fingered the 'on' button but nothing happened. He had doubted he would have service out here in the middle of nowhere, but had expected the phone to at least power up. However the phone seemed to be as dead as a doornail. He didn't know what had happened, but somewhere along the line, perhaps when he had flown outside the atmosphere, he had apparently fried the phone's electronics.

He slid the useless phone back into his pocket. If they got through the current situation, he needed to give the phone back to Chloe to see if she could determine what had gone wrong with it. If the problem was caused by some interaction with his gifts, they needed to figure it out and find some workaround solution. There certainly were times when a functional phone would be a big help.

But then he got to wondering who exactly he could have called, if the phone had been working. His Dad was chasing Roger Nixon somewhere out in the storm, but since his father never carried a cell, he couldn't call him. Lex and Chloe were doubtlessly being held incommunicado somewhere by Lana. His mom was here with him. Who did that leave to call? Pete?

But if he were to call Pete, who was doubtlessly still at the dance, what could he possibly say? _'Hi, Pete. Even though you saw me twenty minutes ago out on the dance floor, I am now somewhere deep in Africa with my mom. Could you please go stop Lana, who is holding Lex and Chloe prisoner? And by the way, she now has a nearly unkillable body and is being possessed by a 10,000 year old version of Chloe. Oh, and she has a computer enhanced mind beyond anything you have ever heard of. And she or someone with her has a braid from the biblical Samson which bestows the strength of fifty or more men. But don't worry about these impossible gifts, just go save the day.'_ Yeah, calling Pete in this situation was going to do a lot of good. NOT!

No, if his phone had been working there was only one person he could possibly call for help – Var. But Var wasn't going to be of immediate help for the current situation in Smallville. Var had been forced to maintain an extremely low profile there to insure the 'original' Chloe didn't catch wind of him or his associates. Therefore, even if Clark's phone was working, it would still be several hours at best before Var could have sufficient assets in Smallville to even consider going up against Sliviuh.

Feeling a hint of regret that there wasn't anyone else he could call, Clark turned his attention back to the ongoing conversation with his mother.

"Mom, apparently Alicia has a meteor rock gift, the ability to instantly teleport herself and anyone she is touching to anywhere on the planet. She left me in a secret chamber under the Giant Sphinx in Egypt, apparently just before she dropped you off here."

Clark had intended to say more, but at that moment his Mom started to rise to her feet to step out of the small boat which had briefly served as a mobile prison. And her movement exposed a note inside a zip-loc'ed bag which had been duct-taped to the top of the boat's seat. It had been hidden by her body during Clark's rescue efforts, but now that it was visible, Clark quickly grabbed it and tore open the enclosing plastic bag.

HI CLARK, began this note just like its immediate predecessor.

I AM GLAD TO SEE YOU HAVE ONCE MORE MADE IT IN TIME. LET ME ASK YOU, ARE YOU THE TEENSY-TINIEST BIT DISAPPOINTED THERE WASN'T AN AUDIENCE LIKE IN PARIS? COME ON, BE TRUTHFUL NOW. WOULDN'T IT BE A RELIEF TO NOT ALWAYS HAVE TO HIDE YOUR ABILITIES? AND DON'T YOU SOMETIMES SECRETLY WISH YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO PRETEND TO BE LESS THAN YOU REALLY ARE? PERHAPS NOW IS THE TIME TO STEP FORWARD AND TAKE YOUR RIGHTFUL PLACE UPON THE WORLD STAGE. JUST THINK FOR A MOMENT ABOUT HOW MUCH MORE GOOD YOU COULD DO IF YOU MOVED BEYOND YOUR OLD LIFE IN SMALLVILLE. IF WE WORK TOGETHER, EVEN WORLD PEACE IS WITHIN OUR GRASP.

HOWEVER TO PROVE YOU ARE WORTHY TO BE MY PARTNER IN THIS UPCOMING GREAT ENDEAVOR, YOU HAVE A FEW MORE TASKS TO PERFORM. NOW I AM SURE YOU REMEMBER THE STORY OF HERCULES AND HIS TWELVE LABORS. WELL, I AM GOING TO CUT YOU A BREAK AND GIVE YOU ONLY SEVEN LABORS AND TWO OF THEM ARE ALREADY COMPLETE. BUT WHILE HERCULES SPENT TWELVE YEARS COMPLETING HIS TASKS, YOU ARE GOING TO HAVE TO PROVE YOU ARE THE BETTER MAN (OR IS IT GOD?) BY COMPLETING YOURS IN JUST THIRTY MINUTES.

NOW, YOUR NEXT STOP ON THE WORLD TOUR . . . INDIA.

An expression of dismay crossed Clark's face. Lex and Chloe needed his help back in Smallville, yet what was that old line by Spock - 'The needs of the many outweighed the needs of the few' – or something like that. How could he just abandon the thousands of people Sliviuh was putting at risk? He couldn't; he would just have to trust that Chloe was a match for Sliviuh since she had once been Sliviuh and now was so much more.

But then something from his thoughts about Pete popped back into his head. He had told Lex and Chloe about the Samson braids, but they had been interrupted before he had gotten around to mentioning that Sliviuh had brought one back from 1936. Chloe might be on the same mental level with Sliviuh, but how could she compete against someone she didn't even know was fifty times stronger?

His fear for Chloe ramped up even higher than it had been, but for the moment he saw no option but to follow through on the tasks Sliviuh had set him. His mood had lightened with the discovery his mother was safe, but as he turned his attention back to the message, it darkened again.

End of Chapter 23

Author's Note

Well, I thought this was going to be the last chapter, but since it is already well over twenty thousand words with a lot yet to come, I decided to break it here with just a little cliffy.

Plus ending with a total of 24 chapters has a better ring then 23.

So I dropped the Belle Reve hint. Any guesses what meteor freak besides Alicia we are going to see?

Have a great day,

Duane


	24. Biological Families Chapter 24

2/10/08

Biological Families – Chapter 24

The large heavy overhead door slammed down with a resounding crash; cutting off what little light had been provided by the sodium lamp mounted on the side of the nearby red barn. The last thing Lex saw was the malevolent expression on Jonathan Kent's face as he pulled down on the canvas strap attached to the door. With a queasy sensation in his gut, Lex had no doubt that at a single word from Lana, no Sliviuh, the farmer wouldn't hesitate to kill him.

As the back of the van descended into absolute darkness, Lex was still struggling to cope with all the sudden changes. One minute he was trying to stop the struggle between Roger Nixon and Jonathan Kent for possession of the video camera with its dangerous footage of Clark's spaceship. Then only a few seconds later, his whole life had been turned upside down. For suddenly the love of his life had somehow morphed into potentially mankind's worst nightmare.

She looked and sounded the same as she always had, so at first glance it had been difficult to believe. But there was something different about her eyes; something he had never seen before, not even during the two long weeks back in Rome when Laura had possessed her body. Now there was a new brutality and coldness. And along with the coldness was an undeniable sense of power. Most people might only see the strutting arrogance, but Lex had been brought up in boardrooms and other corridors of power. He inherently could sense the difference between those who only aspired to power and those who really had the gift. And this new 'possessed' Lana he had just experienced was no poser.

Ever since learning of Chloe's abilities back in Rome and experiencing some of them first hand, Lex had thought a lot about their implications. He knew taking control of key individuals to effectively control the world's important governments was within Chloe's grasp. Yet during the week he had worked with her to start the process of relocating many of her most futuristic R&D projects to Smallville, he had come to understand how she truly preferred to work behind the scenes. And while he could mentally grasp it, with mere weeks since her initial revelation he couldn't yet comprehend it in his gut. Chloe saw herself as, and effectively was, immortal. If things took a few extra decades or even centuries to accomplish by staying in the background, it truly didn't matter to her. Lex knew that even if his dormant 'bot system were to become fully active and under his control, it would still take him thousands of years to develop the ingrained patient Chloe possessed based on her own many millennia of experience.

Yet Lana, or the variation of Chloe that was in possession of her body, didn't have Chloe's inhibitions. She wouldn't work from the shadows like Chloe preferred, but would rather stand in the light. And having Chloe's immortality without her restraints was a very scary thought.

As Lex's thoughts ran to how he would proceed if he was in Sliviuh's shoes to hopefully get some ideas on how to stop her, it briefly felt like someone had touched his hand. Before his mind could even fully process that it had to be Chloe, he was almost blinded by a brilliant light. After blinking rapidly for several seconds, he realized the light was just normal daylight which was only blinding in comparison to the absolute darkness of the enclosed van.

Then as his vision cleared he realized it wasn't normal daylight and nothing about his surroundings was normal either. He was standing outdoors, but it most definitely wasn't the Kent farm or anywhere else in Smallville either. No, stretched out before him was a magnificent city unlike any he had ever seen before. Far overshadowing anything in New York, Gotham City, or even Metropolis, countless majestic towers stretched what had to be several miles up into the sky. And even the sky itself was different; a shade of green he had never seen before. Craning his head up, it seemed to shimmer and shine in a way that didn't feel natural even in this outlandish place. Twisting around to follow the shimmering sky behind him, he realized the shimmering was caused by a nearly transparent dome which stretched up from the ground not more than a hundred feet behind him before arching up to enclose the great city.

He finally noticed Chloe standing beside him and knew this must somehow be her doing, but he couldn't drag his eyes away from the rugged terrain which seemed to begin barely a few hundred feet beyond the edge of the high dome. Then he literally jumped back as the shadow of some great flying beast swept over them. It took him a moment to realize the creature was safely on the far side of the dome. And only then did its true size begin to sink in. The creature was covered with countless iridescent green scales and had to stretch several hundred feet from the nose to the tip of its giant tail. And the wings needed to support its vast weight seemed to stretch even further. More than anything, Lex quickly decided, the creature looked like one of the legendary Chinese flying dragons. Where in hell were they, he wondered.

Turning to Chloe, he discovered she had swapped the tomato-stained green evening gown for a form fitting spandex outfit of almost the same shade. The only adornment on her outfit was a large emblem he didn't recognize emblazoned across most of her right breast.

"Where are we?" he asked in a hoarse whisper, as though it would be risky to reveal their presence.

In a normal speaking tone Chloe responded, although she couldn't seem to keep her own excitement out of her voice. "We are on Krypton."

"Krypton?"

"Clark's home planet," she responded.

Lex glanced around with a new appreciation. So this was the high tech civilization which had created Clark's spaceship, he thought.

"How?" was all Lex could get out.

"When Clark's ship interfaced with my 'bot system, it downloaded tons of historical data about his planet. I used the data to create this simulation of Kryptonopolis in its heyday."

"Kryptonopolis?"

"This city was the ancestral home of Clark's family, the Els. Clark's birth name was Kal El."

"Kal El," repeated Lex as he tested out the sound of it. He wasn't sure if he could ever think of his friend by any other name then Clark. "Why have you brought us here, now?"

Chloe shrugged and then started walking in the direction of the heart of the great city. Once Lex had fallen step beside her, she responded. "There are things we need to discuss, but I would have to assume the van is bugged. So it is better we talk in a virtual reality place where we can't be overheard. I considered simply recreating your office at the mansion or The Talon, but thought this would be more interesting. Since time runs faster here than in the real world, we should have plenty of time to explore a little of Clark's world while we try to figure out how we are going to get out of this mess."

They walked in silence for several minutes before Lex asked. "I feel unusually light on my feet. Is the gravity lower here than on Earth?"

"No, actually it is quite a bit higher. The information I received from the ship didn't have any convenient conversion tables between Krypton units of measure and Earth units, but based on known universal constants and the atomic makeup of this planet, I estimate the gravity here is between twelve and fifteen times that of Earth. The Kryptonians are enough different from humans so that to them it feels like about what 0.85 G's would feel to us. However the difference in gravity alone isn't sufficient to explain Clark's level of abilities on Earth."

Lex nodded. "It also doesn't explain why Clark looks so human. I mean what are the odds a race that evolved under these much higher gravity conditions would end up looking exactly like us?"

Chloe appeared to ponder this for a moment.

"That's odd," she began.

Lex looked at her and then back to the alien city they were wandering through and had to wonder what would suddenly strike her as 'odd'.

"What?"

"The ship dumped so much data into my system; I couldn't take it all in at once. My 'bot system organized it in a way that . . . Well, the closest thing that you can probably comprehend is an encyclopedia. The data is all there, but unless I think about a specific question, it isn't all just sitting in the front of my mind."

"And the odd part?"

"The historical data the Kryptonians have accumulated shows the earliest evidence of their presences on this planet occurs seventeen thousand years ago. Before that, nothing. Several of their scientists postulated that they were transplanted here from somewhere else about that time."

"And why is that any odder than anything else here?" asked Lex.

"Because give or take a few decades, their first arrival here coincides with the timeframe of the peak of my original civilization. Now it might be simply a coincidence, but until now a true high tech civilization only flourished briefly on Earth once before – exactly at the same time the Kryptonians first appeared on this planet. Since they look just like us, there must be some connection."

"Chloe, you have never said much about your original civilization. Did they have interstellar travel capabilities? Could they have reached Krypton – wherever Krypton really is?"

"A hundred eighty seven lightyears," responded Chloe. Then seeing the look of incomprehension on Lex's face, she expanded. "That's the distance from Earth to Krypton. I already was ninety-seven percent certain from the backtracking the trajectory of the meteor shower which marked Clark's arrival thirteen years ago, but it was nice to have it confirmed by star charts which were included in the Kryptonian data package.

"As to your other question," she continued. "By the end of my original civilization they were probably thirty or forty years more advanced than today, but as far as I know all the manned flights had stayed within the confines of our solar system."

Lex glanced over at her sharply. "Ah . . . 'stayed within the solar system' sounds like they had gone a lot further than just low earth orbit. I know you said metal attacking 'bots destroyed your civilization and in combination with the ice age destroyed all evidence of them. But certainly an installation on the moon, for instance, even if abandoned, would still be there in that airless environment. Yet we haven't found any evidence of an installation anything like that."

"Yeah, when telescopes became available again during the Atlantian era about seven thousand years later, I was surprised about that, too. Oh, I wasn't surprised that all the satellites in orbit, even the really big ones in geosynchronous orbit, had suffered sufficient orbital decay to reenter the atmosphere and burn up. But there were several large installations on the moon, on Mars, and in the asteroid belt. The ones on the nearside of the moon had been easily visible from earth with just a small telescope, which is why I was so surprised they were no longer visible a few thousand years later. As you say, they should have still been there."

"What do you think happened to them?" asked Lex, as he tried to accept the concept that a civilization which had existed seventeen thousand years earlier had been well on the path of colonizing the solar system; something the current day space program could only dream about.

Chloe shrugged. "I have been wondering about that for ten thousand years. With this new tidbit about the Kryptonians, I would have to guess that someone, meaning some outside agency, dismantled them and then hid all traces. Well, at least all traces on the moon and Mars. It is still possible that some of the facilities built out in the asteroids might still be there, however we won't know that until we mount an expedition out there."

Mounting an expedition to the asteroid belt, until a moment ago that thought had seemed like something for the distant future. But now Lex's whole perspective had been changed. Oh, he had known for certain that aliens existed since the night of Clark's revelation back at Chloe's palatial estate in ancient Rome. But the implications hadn't really sunk in until seeing this world and having this conversation with Chloe. There were aliens out there and they weren't all benevolent like E.T. Someone had removed all evidence of Chloe's original civilization. And while Chloe said the destruction of her civilization was due to a terrible accident, was she right? Could the same people, who removed the evidence, have actually been responsible for its ending?

Suddenly it seemed that mankind was playing on a much bigger field than any of them had realized. And being limited to one planet, hell, one solar system left them extremely vulnerable. Lex knew an expedition to the asteroid belt needed to happen sooner rather than later and it would be only a first step on the suddenly necessary path to the stars.

"Chloe, are you certain the 'bots that destroyed your old world were truly an accident? Could whoever removed the installations on the Moon and Mars have been behind it? Could someone have intentionally thrown mankind back to the Stone Age?"

Chloe pointed off to their left at a long, low building of gray stone. Once they had changed course in its direction, she responded. "Things were pretty crazy in those final days. The 'bot swarm was spreading at incredible speed. And as soon as it reached an area, all communications were lost. It started on the far side of the world and places simply fell off the grid and never returned. It wasn't even clear that it was metal destroying 'bots until it reached us."

Chloe paused for a moment as they reached the gray building. Lex knew it must be for his benefit that the writing above the door was in English. The 'Hall of History' was what it said in giant letters.

As they climbed the wide steps and walked inside, Chloe continued. "The story about the accident was just based on rumors I heard from other survivors. And even those rumors were something I didn't learn about until more than thirty years after the fact. At the time, they were the simplest explanation. But now," she shrugged. "I would put the odds at over eighty percent it wasn't a simple accident."

Dominating the first gallery inside the building was a giant statue of a man. The material looked like some kind of metal, but not quite the traditional bronze. It was at least twenty feet tall and stood on a raised plinth. On the plinth was an inscription – Erok El, Unifier of Urrika, Founder of Erkol, First King of Krypton.

"If whoever destroyed your civilization is still out there, what is to prevent them from doing it to us again?" asked Lex quietly.

"It's been a really long time, maybe they aren't there anymore," answered Chloe.

Lex snorted. "You're still here. And if your longevity is possible, well . . . if they have the ability to turn humans into people like Clark, assuming they have gone away forever doesn't seem like the prudent approach."

"So what are you suggesting?" asked Chloe.

"I am not absolutely certain yet. I just think we need to refocus some of the projects we were planning to prepare for possible alien intruders. At a minimum, I think we need to accelerate efforts on space drive technologies."

"Agreed," said Chloe with a simple nod. "I have a lot of data on the Kryptonians' space technology which should give us a big leg up."

Then as she led the way into the long central hall connecting the numerous exhibits of the giant museum, she changed the direction of the conversation. "But we probably should focus on getting out of the current situation first. Our vision of the future isn't going to have much value, if Sliviuh ends up in charge of everything."

Lex paused to look at her. "Any ideas on how we can stop her?"

Chloe stared at him for a moment with an expression that said she almost regretted turning the conversation in this direction. Finally with a sigh, she responded. "I think I need a drink first. Come on."

She turned and led the way around the next corner. As if by magic, a snack bar with a couple of tables suddenly appeared right in front of them. Of course, Lex realized, everything here was completely under her control, so if she needed a snack bar, there could easily be one.

Chloe stepped behind the counter and snagged a pair of mugs and a pot of some steaming beverage that looked like coffee. After depositing the mugs on one of the tables, she filled them and then slouched into one of the chairs.

"Where is everyone?" asked Lex sensing Chloe wasn't quite ready to continue on the topic of how to stop Sliviuh.

Chloe gave a simply shrug, as though her mind was focused on other things. "It takes a lot more effort to do people rather than just inanimate things like buildings. I didn't think it was necessary."

"Well, maybe it wasn't necessary, but without any people this place feels eerily tomb-like."

"I guess the lack of people seemed sort of appropriate since they are all gone. Of course, this place is gone, too."

Lex suddenly felt even more lost than when he had suddenly been transported from the back of the van to here. "Chloe, what are you talking about?"

"Krypton. It's gone. The planet was destroyed shortly after Clark's ship departed."

Lex knew Clark had always wondered why he had been sent here alone and why no one had ever followed. Clark hadn't had any idea about his past, but apparently Chloe did.

"What happened?"

"The Kryptonians had a violent past. I guess from an outside perspective it probably wouldn't seem any worse than Earth's except they played with much, much scarier weapons. Anyway hundreds of years before Clark's time, someone set off a device which created a miniature black hole. Slowly it ate away the interior of the planet. As it grew, it started to have an effect on the surface of the planet. The two most pronounced effects were radiation from matter crossing over the event horizon and earthquakes from gravitational effects. The total effect was exponential in nature and the end came very abruptly with the planet breaking up and getting sucked into the black hole over a period of a few minutes. The burst of energy that was released was so extreme I originally thought Krypton's sun had gone supernova. However the information Jor El, Clark's biological father, included in the ship's database, as well as the sensor records of the ship itself, explained what truly happened."

Lex tried to understand what kind of person would try to destroy his own planet. But then he realized there were plenty of people on earth who would do it if given the chance. Just look at Hitler in his final days, if someone had told him there was a way to take the whole world with him when he committed suicide, he doubtlessly would have done it.

But the destruction of Krypton could wait for another day; it was certainly a topic better discussed when Clark was present, too.

Lex was about to bring the conversation back to the topic of stopping Sliviuh when he took his first sip of the dark liquid in his cup. It was hot like he was expecting from the steam rising from the top, but it didn't taste at all like coffee. No, the closest he could come to describing the flavor was 'root beer'. And 'hot' and 'root beer' were not a combination that should ever be uttered in the same sentence.

Setting his cup back on the table he asked while trying to maintain a benign expression on his face. "Ah, Chloe, could you make mine coffee?"

Chloe glanced down at his mug. "Sorry, Lex. I thought you might enjoy a native Kryptonian beverage." She waved her hand over his cup in a theatrical manner. "Give it a try now."

Lex took a hesitant sip and then recognizing the special blend The Talon stocked just for him, he took a deeper swallow.

With a nod of thanks, he set his cup down. Before leaping directly to the question of how they were going to stop Sliviuh, hopefully without hurting Lana, he asked the question that had been burning in his mind since the abrupt disappearance of Clark and his mother.

"Chloe, who is Alicia and how is she involved?"

Chloe hesitated for a moment. She and Alicia had a pact not to reveal each other's secrets. But their very survival and that of a free humanity was at stake.

"Alicia is a meteor freak, only a 'good' one. She has helped me on several occasions to defeat 'bad' meteor freaks."

"And how exactly did she 'help' you?"

Chloe took a sip of her Kryptonian coffee. "You remember the Necrodemis flower?"

When Lex nodded she continued. "The first victim was Alicia's best friend's uncle. Now Alicia and I have shared science class all year, but we didn't become close friends until after people started ending up in the hospital. Actually, while you may have thought Doctor Hamilton found the old book of Native American Indian cures, it was Alicia who did most of the work of tracking it down. Now, I had developed some suspicions that she was some kind of meteor freak, because on several occasions she seemed able to be in two places almost at once. But before I had her completely figured out, she stumbled across my own secret."

Lex thought Chloe was taking the long about way to get to Alicia's secret, but he was intrigued by her story. "Ah, how does one stumble across your secret? I have known you for months and I never would have guessed you were anything but normal."

"Jeez, Lex," said Chloe with a light chiding tone. "It is never nice to tell a girl she's just 'normal'."

Before Lex get out an apology, Chloe waved him down and continued. "No, it's okay. Anyway, it was because of a bit of vanity on my part. Or perhaps it is just the potential of a little danger and excitement that has driven me to leave the occasional clue behind. In this case it was an old portrait I should have had destroyed when one of my 'lives' ended and I moved on. Back in the 1890s and early 1900s, I was known as Lady Jane Cavendish, Duchess of Devonshire. A family portrait of me, my husband, and our children still hangs in the library at Chatsworth House, the ancestral family home in Derbyshire, England. I didn't realize it at the time, but my father-in-law, William Cavendish, the 7th Duke of Devonshire, had visited America in the 1880s and was the author of the book which contained the Necrodemis cure. Alicia had discovered the name of the book and its author and the trail to find a copy led her to the library with my portrait."

While Lex under other circumstances would have found this anecdote about Chloe's past fascinating, at the moment there seemed to be plenty of other more pressing topics. "So she discovered you were at least a hundred years old. What does it have to do with her ability and what just happened to Clark and his Mom?"

Chloe shrugged. "Nothing directly. Alicia had suspected me of being a meteor freak for a while, the same as I suspected her. But after seeing the old painting of me, she knew I had to be something else. Fortunately, Alicia got brave and confronted me by revealing her secret. Actually, she is pretty observant and had guessed correctly about several of the abilities my 'bot system gives me. Of course, she didn't have any inkling of their true source."

"Chloe," Lex began and a hint of exasperation had crept into his voice. "Quit hemming and hawing. What is Alicia's ability?"

Chloe looked back at Lex and grinned. "Come on, Lex. You must have guessed by now. Alicia is a teleport. She can move herself and anyone she touches instantly to any spot on the planet." Lex appeared to be staring at her blankly, so she added. "Surely, it can't any harder to believe than any of the other abilities we have come across like the guys who could walk through the solid steel walls of a bank vault."

But Lex's blank stare hadn't been because he couldn't understand the concept of teleportation, but rather it had been caused by the flood of ideas of what he could accomplish if he had control of that ability. However he quickly reined his thoughts back in. As Chloe had earlier said, if they didn't get successfully passed this current situation with Sliviuh, there wasn't much point in daydreaming about the future.

"Sorry," responded Lex. "I get the whole teleportation concept and it does neatly explain what happened to Clark. My mind had just wandered back to the topic of how we are going to stop Sliviuh. Do you have any suggestions?"

Chloe toyed with her mug a moment, but she couldn't but this topic off any longer, much as she would like to.

"The only practical solution I can see is the device in your pocket. If it appears like she is going to touch one of us, you are going to have to use it."

Lex stared at her for a moment wondering if she truly meant what he thought she did. Then he saw the first signs of tears glistening in her eyes.

"No, there must be some other way. I don't want it to wipe your memories, too. If she touches you, don't you think you can keep her from taking control of you? I mean you have all the same abilities she has."

Chloe shook her head. "No, Lex, you don't understand how addictive what she is doing is to me. The sense of power I feel when I share someone's blood and through it their memories, it is almost impossible to resist."

"But you did that with Lana and me back in Rome and it didn't affect you."

"That was different, Lex. You were friends and I was merely repairing your bodies. It is when I get started playing with people's memories that I get into trouble. And from what Clark told us about events back in the 1930s and what we have seen here in the last few minutes, Sliviuh has been fucking with a lot of people's heads. If she touches me and I get a taste of that, I am very afraid I am going to want start doing it, too."

Chloe took a moment to dab at her eyes and made no pretense of hiding it. "Lex, if the thought of Sliviuh attempting to run the world is scary, her and I acting together increases it by at least a factor of ten. You have to promise me, if it looks like she is going to touch me that you will push the button."

Lex watched helplessly as the tears ran down Chloe's face. "Chloe, what happens to you if I push the button? I mean when I used it on Laura, she reverted back to Lana and hopefully the same thing will happen with Sliviuh. But what about you?"

Chloe blinked rapidly several times and tried to put a brave face on it, but Lex saw how her lower lip continued to quiver.

"I don't know Lex. The 'bot memory system has been an integral part of me for so very long, I have no idea what memories are in my real brain. Maybe I'll be okay. Or maybe I will have a random scattering of memories from the passed nineteen thousand years. Or maybe I will be a blank slate. I simply don't know. But I have had a good long run and if it ends tonight, well, just make sure you stop Sliviuh and get Lana back."

Lex hated how this conversation brought back memories of the time Laura had had almost the same conversation with him before she pressed the button and purged herself from Lana's 'bot system. But this time they were talking about Chloe and there might not be any memories for her to fall back to. There had to be another solution, because if he wiped Chloe's mind, Clark was going to kill him.

"Chloe, when you were Sliviuh way back in history, you said you ruled the world for two hundred years. What happened? I mean, why aren't you still running the world? What stopped you? Can we do something similar to stop Sliviuh now?"

Chloe stared at Lex for a moment and he thought she wasn't going to answer, but finally she spoke.

"No. Well, we could, but you probably don't want to wait a thousand years to get Lana back."

When she didn't immediately continue, Lex prodded. "Ah, perhaps you could go into a little more detail. Maybe there is something we can use and it might be beneficial to have someone hear it who has a different perspective."

Chloe took a sip from her mug before responding. "Okay. The truth. I ruled the planet for two hundred eighty three years. And after awhile I got lazy or complacent or whatever the term is for an absolute monarch who has lost touch with his subjects and retreated into a sybaritic existence focused more than anything on his own pleasures. It shouldn't be a new concept; I mean many of the Roman Emperors ended up in more or less the same state, like Tiberius and his ultimate retreat to the island of Capri where he could focus on his sexual perversions to his heart's content.

"And I wasn't any more immune to that affliction than anyone else. After several hundred years, I had come to depend on my gift of controlling the minds and thoughts of everyone in my inner circle. Well, more than my inner circle, I had tampered with the minds of everyone who potentially could have contact with me. But I had made a few mistakes during my reign, one of which was the very public sharing of blood with individuals I intended to subjugate. It wasn't difficult for others, who I hadn't yet bent to my will, to surmise what was going on. Oh, they may not have understood the actual mechanism of the nanobots, but they could see the cause and effect of my sharing of blood.

"One of the other rules I had violated for the first time in thousands of years, was never maintaining the same persona for more than fifteen years. I had learned the hard way early on that to do so was to cause more harm than it was worth to myself or my friends and loved ones. But I was so drunk on my power I didn't bother with my normal minimal subterfuge of remaking myself as my daughter, niece, or granddaughter.

"So over time, a secret society slowly formed on the fringes of the Atlantian civilization. Their primary charter was to discover what I was and how I was able to control anyone with whom I shared blood. Hmm, in English their name would best translate as 'The Brotherhood of the Ancient Suns'."

Lex had been listening intently, although as yet Chloe hadn't said anything that appeared to be of any use. But then, suddenly, the name of this brotherhood seemed to ring a bell.

"Chloe, isn't that another name for the Illuminati?" When she nodded, he continued. "Have they really been around since the time of Atlantis? And their original purpose was to study you?"

"More than study me, they wanted to figure out how to duplicate my gifts," Chloe tried to smile, but it just made her look more forlorn, as though the loss of her memories was still a forgone conclusion. "But then who wouldn't want to live forever with the ability to control men's minds? Of course, they never think about the other aspects like watching your friends grow old and die. Or being forced to move on and leave everyone you love and care for behind before people begin to notice how you never age."

Lex could see that Chloe was spiraling into some dark, bleak place and they didn't have time for that. He needed to know more about what had happened to Sliviuh the first time, if he was going to have any hope of saving Chloe, as well as Lana.

"Chloe, what happened? Obviously, this brotherhood did something."

Chloe started to speak, but she had this far away look in her eyes like she was lost in her memories and it was purely incidental that she was saying them aloud.

"The Brotherhood's origin dates to a time about eighty years into my reign. By then it was obvious to everyone that I wasn't like anyone else, as I had to be at least a hundred years old, but still looked sixteen.

Chloe's mind drifted back to those long ago days and for a moment her story wandered off track. "I had been trying to force the level of technology forward since coming to power. However it was more difficult than I had suspected, primarily due to my complete lack of a technical background. Oh, I had come for an extremely high-tech civilization, but I didn't have any real understanding of the underlying science. I mean everyone today uses computers, but how many people could build one from scratch and by scratch I mean design every transistor, integrated circuit, harddrive read/write head, display unit, and so forth? I could do it now, because I have crammed an unbelievable amount of data into my 'bot memory system. But in the three days from when my 'bots were first activated to the total collapse of my civilization, well, I had a lot of priorities and unfortunately, scientific data collection wasn't one of them.

"So, I had to start at the most basic level and move forward slowly via a lot of trial and error just like everyone else. Steam power, assembly lines, and electricity were among the first improvements I implemented. We slowly moved forward to the technological equivalent of the Victorian Era, say late 1880's. Steam trains, telegraphs, and a scattering of telephones and electrical service was about as far as it ever got in Atlantis during my reign. Part of the problem didn't truly become clear until the real Victorian Age; a critical mass of population is required to generate an adequate positive feedback loop to make ongoing gains self-perpetuating and the planet in the Atlantis Era simply didn't have enough people. But Victorian era technology was a huge step up from the bronze age civilizations which had existed when I came to power and perhaps I simply stopped pushing for further progress."

With a conscious effort Chloe forced her monologue back more directly onto the topic of her rise and fall during the Atlantis era. "Anyway, it took eighty years from when I first gained control of Atlantis until I had control of the world. Well, technically, I only controlled the eastern hemisphere as the Americas were relatively devoid of people at that time and the great American Indian civilizations were still thousands of years in the future. So while my empire didn't control the world's complete landmass, it did control over ninety percent of the world's population, which is a significantly higher percent than any post-ice age empire can claim.

"I started from Atlantis, which lies on the floor of the since refilled Mediterranean Sea, and expanded north to the foot of the great glaciers covering the northern half of Europe. Then I turned south and conquered Africa. Finally, I moved east and spread my empire through modern Persia, then India and China. After eighty hard years of nearly continuous battle, the last to fall was the Kirghiz Empire located north of the Himalayas and east of China."

Abruptly, as she was describing the saga of her conquest of the world, the lunch counter, the museum, and the whole planet of Krypton vanished from in front of Lex's eyes. Almost instantly he found himself standing on a low bluff overlooking a broad valley where two giant armies were battling to the death. On the far side of the valley, situated on a higher plateau was a massive walled city, far greater than anything he had seen in his travels through Europe during the summer between his freshman and sophomore years of college.

"Chloe, where are we?"

Chloe pointed across the valley to the city which was perhaps a mile away. "That's Urumqi, capitol of the Kirghiz Empire. It was the last great citadel to fall before my conquest of the planet was complete."

Chloe held out her hand. "Give me your hand, Lex."

Lex did as she asked, but never expected what happened next. For as soon as her cool hand firmly grasped his, they lifted off the ground and flew in the direction of the most intense fighting.

"Ah, Chloe," gasped Lex as his stomach seemed to lurch when they cleared the edge of the bluff where they had been standing and abruptly the ground fell away from them by several hundred feet.

'It's not real. It's all just an illusion," Lex repeated to himself as they seemed to race forward.

They abruptly came to a stop and hovered maybe thirty feet above the ground. Below them the frontlines of the two opposing sides had just crashed together. At first the sound of braying horses, the ringing of steel on steel, and the screams of wounded and dying men were utterly overwhelming. This wasn't like watching some movie on a big screen, everything below them looked absolutely real.

Then for a moment it did feel like a movie – a movie where the sound system failed. The combat below them raged on, but an eerie silence had fallen over everything.

Chloe's voice was suddenly startlingly loud from directly beside him. "I thought you might want a glimpse of what we are up against. Of what I was like back when I was on the warpath. A taste of what Lana is capable of while she is possessed by Sliviuh."

Pointing slightly to their left, they swooped closer and Lex spotted the ancient version of Chloe. And she was a sight to behold in a black breastplate emblazoned with a silver idealized lion across the chest. A matching black helmet didn't prevent a long stream of blonde hair from streaming down her back.

However it wasn't her attire that held his attention. No, it was her fighting style that he found riveting. Part acrobatics, part martial arts, she leapt and almost danced across the tops of the armored cavalrymen she was battling. And with a blurring two-foot sword in each hand, she cut a swath of destruction through her opposition that was staggering to see. In the less than fifteen seconds Lex watched, she had to have dispatched more the twenty men. And along the way she had received several blows that would certainly have killed anyone else, but she simple shrugged them off and kept ripping a path of destruction that her own troops were quick to exploit.

Lex had witnessed a little of Chloe's abilities back during the battle on the bridge during their last day in ancient Rome, but it had been nothing like this. This Chloe he was now witnessing was the ultimate human fighting machine. No, Lex thought, she was the true embodiment of the mythical banshee, the female messenger of death.

Much of the time he still had difficulty thinking of Chloe as anything more than a Smallville High school girl. Oh, he was getting used to the idea of her near limitless wealth, as attested to by their recent business dealings. And he had mostly come to terms with her long life and with her mental ability to recreate places like the city from Clark's home world. But Chloe as world conqueror had somehow been the hardest to grasp. Oh, he had lingering faded memories of her life from the time when she had first introduced her 'bots into his body, now almost a month in his past. But now, after mere seconds of watching her in action, he was beginning to truly grasp what she was capable of achieving when she set her mind to some goal. And it scared the shit out of him.

He had long harbored dreams of someday being President, but those dreams paled in comparison with what Chloe or the Sliviuh personality in Lana's body was capable of doing. In that long ago era, she had far surpassed what even Alexander the Great had been able to achieve. And it was all done within the limitations of the arcane travel system of the time where the men she had placed in charge of the various regions of the planet probably went for years without any active direction from her. How much more effective would her gift of controlling men's minds be in the present where she could reach any point on the globe in a matter of hours? Or given Sliviuh's control of Alicia, a matter of seconds?

Lex suddenly understood more than ever the importance of stopping Sliviuh now, before she had time to spread her influence over the leaders of the world. For, even if she hadn't learned anything from her previous mistakes, it still might be hundreds of years before she began to repeat them.

Come on, Chloe, Lex secretly implored, give me some clue on how to defeat her without wiping your mind, too. Because he realized, if it came to it, he would sacrifice her to prevent the future he saw under Sliviuh.

Lex turned to where Chloe was hovering in mid-air beside him. "I think I am beginning to understand what we are up against if Sliviuh is allowed to proceed unchecked. But you still haven't explained how you were ultimately defeated back then."

Chloe stared at him for a moment and then nodded as though she saw something in his eyes that she had been looking for.

"This battle may look impressive, but it was merely a delaying action by the Kirghizi," she began with a nod towards the city in the distance.

"The Kirghizi leaders," Chloe continued, "Had been able to watch my progress as civilization after civilization fell before my troops. And they had seen how the surviving leaders turned into fanatical followers after my blood ceremonies. So in the end this battle was just a diversion to make me and my troops think we had defeated them while their leader, a man named Van Dahl, and his inner cadre disappeared into hiding."

Once again their surroundings abruptly shifted, but this time rather than an exotic location like Krypton or some ancient battlefield, Lex found himself sitting on the leather couch by the fireplace in his home office back at the mansion. Chloe was sitting across from him and still talking, as though these continual shifts in locale were all perfectly normal.

"I knew Dahl and his men were still out there, but with a thousand men who had gone through the blood ceremony in control of the former Kirghiz Empire, I didn't think there would be any serious problems and after eighty years of warfare, I was ready to retreat to Atlantis to enjoy life and focus more on my technological advancement projects."

Chloe paused for a moment as Lex rose and walked over to the mini-bar by the pool table and fixed himself a stiff drink. She followed him over and motioned that she would join him.

After talking a sip from the tumbler of scotch he handed her, she continued. "Although with ten thousand plus years of hindsight, I should have wiped out the Kirghizi to the last man. I mean their descendants, including the Huns, the Mongols, and countless others would come sweeping out of Eurasian Steppes every few hundred years to wreak havoc on the more civilized nations of the world. Life for everyone would have been better if they had never existed. But all you can ever do is what seems right at the time.

"Anyway, it was Dahl who founded the Brotherhood of the Ancient Suns and his descendants have been members of its ruling tribunal through most of recorded history."

Lex began to hope Chloe was finally getting to the information he might need to stop Sliviuh. "So, what happened two hundred years later to cause your downfall?"

"The brotherhood spent decades studying what they could about me while being extremely careful that they never came to my attention. They captured and studied a number of men with whom I had shared blood. They developed the compartmentalization concept still used by modern terrorists so if any of their members were captured and interrogated by me, they couldn't reveal much – not that there was much risk as only the most fanatical followers, who had readily agreed to commit suicide before I had a chance to share blood, were allowed within a thousand miles of me."

Chloe paused to take another sip of her drink before continuing. "As I said earlier, the longer I was in control, the further I drifted into a megalomaniac state where I expected everyone to obey my slightest whim and I depended on those who had undergone my mental subjugation to protect me. However even though I had exchanged blood with tens of thousands of my subjects, that still left millions more who had no reason to love me and with all of the cruel things I did, more and more of them actively came to hate me.

"The brotherhood took advantage of this growing hatred. While biding their time for the right opportunity to strike, they also compiled extensive lists of names of who had, or was suspected of having exchanged blood with me. Unfortunately, the telegraph and primitive telephone systems I had implemented were, in the end, used against me to allow them to coordinate a simultaneous attack against me and my blood-tainted followers all over the world.

"When the end came, they managed to gather a twenty-thousand strong force to encircle and attack my imperial enclave on the outskirts of Atlantis. No matter how fanatically dedicated my blood-enslaved followers were, the four hundred sixty in the enclave were no match."

Chloe paused and walked back over to the couch by the fireplace. Dropping down, she slouched in the seat and continued in a quieter, more subdued tone.

"I was captured and dragged away to a secret hidden fortress deep in the Himalayas. I was poked and prodded, studied and tortured for my secrets for years – years which quickly turned into decades and then centuries. But none of it ever did them any good. I mean you need a pretty good electron microscope to detect the nanobots. A Victorian era microscope is hard pressed to discern anything but the largest individual cells and nanobots are at least ten thousand times smaller.

"Eventually, they forcibly caused me to exchange blood with both voluntary and unwilling victims. I thought this was going to be my way to escape, but I never saw any of the ones I shared blood with again – and it didn't matter whether I tried to obviously or subtly alter their thought processes to do my bidding. In some of them I even implanted triggers that wouldn't activate for twenty years or more, but none of them, to my knowledge, ever made a rescue attempt. So I had to surmise all of the ones I infected were either killed or held under tight quarantine conditions for the rest of their lives.

"The brotherhood's studies of me continued at irregular intervals for almost three hundred years. Sometimes they would seem to experiment on me daily for months and then other times years would go by with no contact other than a food tray passed through the opening in my cell door.

"Finally, one day, the interrogations and experiments simply stopped. Oh, the food trays continued to be delivered, but I never saw anyone. I didn't see a single living soul until I escaped and that day didn't arrive for another six hundred thirty-seven years, five months and six days."

Chloe raised her gaze from the glass tumbler she had been slowly rotating between her fingers and looked Lex straight in the eyes. "Somewhere in those centuries of forced solitude the _'subjugate men's minds and conqueror the world'_ urges burned out. Perhaps going 'cold turkey' from meddling with other people's minds was the reason. Or perhaps it was being forced to relive old memories from lack of anything else to do that convinced me I had been happier before I discovered my ability to control others' bodies and minds. I don't know what, exactly, was the trigger, but when I finally escaped that locked cell, I simply no longer had the desire to control the world.

"Which was just as well, because by the time I escaped, the world I had left behind was already gone forever. The Illuminati in their enthusiasm to get rid of all reminders of me had utterly destroyed Atlantis. But even more importantly, during the thousand years I was held prisoner, the ice age had pretty much come to an end. And with its end all of the water, which had been stored in the form of ice in the glaciers, returned to a liquid state and was in the process of restoring the world's oceans to their current level. So, even if it hadn't been utterly destroyed, Atlantis would still have joined all the other great cities of that era at the bottom of the Mediterranean Sea. And along with the loss of the great cities had come the end of technological advances I had implemented. The world I returned to had barely one quarter of the population it had had at the peak of my control and what was left had slid back to a Bronze Age existence."

Lex was starting to think Chloe's initial assessment had been right – her original fall from power and subsequent personal decision to restrain herself from controlling people's minds held nothing useful as to how to quickly and easily restore Lana to control of her body and as a consequence stop Sliviuh's drive to regain control of the planet. However to give himself more time to think about what she had said, Lex decided it would be best to keep her talking.

"So, Chloe, did you ever cross paths with the Illuminati again?"

Chloe glanced at him as if wondering about this slight change in topic, before she went ahead and answered him. "Yeah, in the nine thousand years since I escaped from their clutches our paths have crossed on a number of occasions. Of course, you need to understand that the Illuminati were the only ones who after the collapse of the late ice age civilizations retained any of the technologies I introduced while I was in control of Atlantis. Knowing how to make a few things like homemade batteries, electro-magnets, lightbulbs and the like was more than enough to pass yourself off as a wizard or mage in primitive societies that existed for a very long time. Hell, they were still using parlor tricks they stole from me to intimidate or impress people as recently as two hundred years ago.

"But to get back to your question, yeah, it seemed like every few hundred years some particularly zealous, ambitious man would gain control of the Illuminati's tribunal and would start a new crusade to track me down. Their goal was always to capture me and then they planned to weasel out my secrets, as though they were in some way more capable then the ones who had actually captured and interrogated me the first time.

"Fortunately for me, most of their records from the earliest era were lost and they had only the vaguest description of me." Chloe paused for a moment and Lex saw the first small grin grace her face since they had sat down at the small table in the refreshment area of the Kryptonian museum and the conversation had turned to methods of defeating Sliviuh. "Okay, I'll admit I did infiltrate their organization early on and was responsible for the loss of much of their records. It simply seemed better that the only description they had of me was the oral tradition of a generally blonde girl who looked sixteen and who never aged rather than book after book of artist drawings of my face which had been secretly created during my long years in captivity."

"Ah, how did you infiltrate their organization? At least from what little contact I have had with their modern counterpart, they only admit men into their organization."

"Yeah, to the best of my knowledge the Illuminati have always been organized that way. It has been an ongoing feeble attempt to keep me out and away from their secrets. But in many ways they didn't seem to understand the true implications of my long life and how being able to pass for a man was an important asset for someone forever trapped in a young girl's body. With the proper clothes and haircut and after much practice at the vocal control necessary to slightly lower the pitch of my voice, I can readily pass for a man when necessary."

Abruptly, almost in mid-sentence, Lex felt their locale shift again and this time everything faded to black and then simply stayed there. However all was not silent like he had landed in oblivion, rather the darkness was filled with a loud 'beep, beep, beep' sound. It took him only a couple of seconds to recognize the sound as the back up warning alarm fitted onto all large commercial trunks. The LuthorCorp van they were riding in was backing up, which made it highly likely they had reached its destination. This sound must have been what caused Chloe to drop them out of the virtual reality world and back into the real world.

"How long?" Lex whispered.

"Twelve minutes fourteen seconds," came Chloe's reply as the beeping sound stopped and the van's engine was shut off.

"So we are still somewhere in or close to Smallville," mused Lex.

"Yes, we are at the LuthorCorp plant."

"What? So do you have like a built-in GPS unit?" asked Lex as he heard the lock on the rear overhead door of the van being removed.

"Unfortunately, no. However by listening to the engine and transmission sounds I can estimate the speed within a couple of miles an hour. And by feeling the turns and overlaying the resulting data on an internal street map I keep of the Smallville area, the probability we are now at the plant is 99.94."

As the door started to rise and the compartment began to be flooded with the yellow light of the security lights mounted around the exterior of the plant, Lex answered. "Oh, I am not doubting what you say, I was just curious about the mechanism."

When the door reached the fully up and locked position, Lex could see Jonathan Kent and Roger Nixon standing immediately outside with Lana, no he had to remember she was now Sliviuh, standing a few yards further away. However unlike when they had first boarded the van, he was no longer looking down at them, rather they were on level and it was apparent the van had been backed up to one of the many loading docks lining the east side of the fertilizer plant's main building.

Standing, Lex reached down and offered Chloe a hand up. As she rose to her feet, she leaned close and whispered in a serious tone, "Do what you must, Lex."

Lex tightened his grip on her hand once to let her know he understood and then he turned and led the way out. As he exited the van and stepped out onto the loading dock, he glanced in both directions. Five identical vans were currently occupying other spots along the length of the dock.

He had hoped Clark would return soon from wherever Sliviuh had had Alicia take him. And he had hoped Clark would spot the van as it headed away from the farm. But Clark hadn't returned in time and when or if he returned, the van would be nearly impossible to find with it being simply 'hidden in plain sight'.

He desperately needed to find a way to let Clark know where they were. Sliding his hands into his pants' pockets he immediately felt the small potentially lethal box in his right pocket and quickly moved his hand away. It wasn't time yet for that last resort option and hopefully it never would be. Then in his left pocket his hand closed around the keys to his Land Rover. It probably didn't have enough range to make any difference, but Lex immediately began tapping out the Morse Code for 'S.O.S.' on the door unlock button.

With Sliviuh leading the way, the small group quickly passed into the building proper and headed down one of the many corridors which penetrated into the bowels of the sprawling factory. They had walked in silence for six or seven minutes when it dawned on Lex where they were headed. He hadn't been down there since shortly after the incident almost two months in the past where, if not for Clark's no longer secret abilities, he would have fallen to his death. Level 3 – the secret underground facility where his father had been conducting meteor rock experiments related to crop growth, among other things. The facility his father had even kept secret from him.

When he had been forced down there the largest chamber, used for crop growth experiments, had been mostly empty. It was only later that he had had the opportunity to fully explore the level and had discovered the series of labs and cleanrooms which almost doubled the square footage of the secret level. The whole place had been effectively vacant. It had taken him almost two weeks of research to uncover that his father had moved everything out in the month preceding Lex's arrival to take charge of the plant. While he had uncovered when it had been emptied out, he never had been able to determine what his father had been working on or to where he had moved the operation.

The ironic part was with the employee buyout almost complete and the facility requirements for Chloe's soon to arrive nanotech projects becoming clearer, he had planned to come down here on Monday with the architects to determine what renovations would be required.

Lex was surprised when they walked right passed the passenger elevator leading down to Level Three. He was certain that had been their destination. About a hundred feet beyond the elevator, Sliviuh paused at what looked like a standard circuit breaker panel. She opened the door, reached in, and flipped one of the switches. Immediately a loud rumbling was heard. Lex watched in surprise as the front of a large storage tank with prominent warn placards about toxic chemicals rotated up and out of the way. The exposed passageway was large enough to handle one of the standard in-plant service vehicles. Lex involuntarily shook his head; how many more secrets had his father hidden in this plant?

Sliviuh again led the way while the two men with the guns brought up the rear. After passing through the large tank they reach a service elevator which was much larger than the one Lex knew about for entering Level 3. But now that he thought about it, that one could hardly be the only route into Level 3 as it was barely adequate for the staff needs let alone the movement of equipment and supplies.

This new elevator would certainly fill those needs except when it started to descend, it went down a lot further than the other elevator had. And when its doors finally opened, it let out into an area Lex was certain he had never visited before. Was this part of Level Three or something else entirely? Whichever was the case, the equally interesting question was - how had Sliviuh found it? Based on her comment she had arrived two days earlier. And from what he had seen, she was capable of achieving an amazing amount in a short period of time. So the question was, who had she uncovered who knew about this facility? Were some of the people here still on his father's secret payroll?

Sliviuh had apparently been watching Lex's face because as she flipped a switch which turned on overhead lights and lit the corridor that suddenly stretched at least several hundred yards before them, she remarked.

"So, Lex, I take it you didn't know about this secret Level Sixty-Nine your father built below Level Three? Level Three was focused on flora while this one was focused on . . . well, I think I will just leave that to your imagination for now." Then as she laughed at her own joke, she gestured for them to proceed down the long passageway.

They walked until the large freight elevator didn't look any bigger than a postage stamp held at arm's length. Then they turned right and walked several hundred feet down a side passage before making another right turn and entering a twenty by fifty foot alcove lined with doors on three sides. This room was painted a pale green rather than the industrial gray of the many corridors. In one corner was a built-in desk that instantly reminded Lex of the nurse's station at hospital. Like the rest of this level and Level Three, if they were truly separate installations, all of the equipment had been removed when operations had been shut down. But here at least the exposed cabling to hook up computers and other monitoring equipment had been left hanging in place.

As they paused to glance around, Sliviuh moved over to one of the doors and used a key to unlock it. Once the door had swung fully open, she stepped back and gestured for Chloe and Lex to enter.

They hadn't hesitated for more than a couple of seconds when a growled out remark from Jonathan Kent got them moving. As they entered the room, Lex wasn't certain what he expected to find. From the observation style window in the door and the nurse's station outside, he guessed his father had been using this area to experiment on people rather than plants. But if this room had been used for anything beyond simple observation, it was no longer evident. Like the rest of the facility it had been stripped of all equipment and furnishing. The room was somewhat larger than a standard hospital room being roughly twelve by eighteen feet, but it did have a standard closet and washroom off one side.

Lex and Chloe step well into the room before pausing. Lex had expected the door to swing shut and lock them in while Sliviuh finished dealing with Clark, so he was a little surprised when she appeared in the doorway.

She stared at them for a moment before glancing back to the men behind her.

"Jonathan, Roger, please proceed with phase three while I handle things here." Then she stepped into the room and pulled the door closed behind her.

When Lex realized Sliviuh was joining them in the room, he instinctively started to move to put himself between her and Chloe. But then he stopped as the pointlessness of it sank in. It would be just as disastrous if Sliviuh touched him as if she touched Chloe. He already had a set of 'bots in his body from their time in ancient Rome and if she touched him he would end up a mindless drone under her power like Clark's father or Roger Nixon. And if he was under her control there was no way he could use the device in his pocket to stop her.

So as he moved he raised his arm and forced Chloe to precede him towards the corner farthest from the girl, who from his perspective had been his girlfriend mere minutes earlier.

Sliviuh slowly shook her head as she moved further into the room. "Come on, Lex. Surely you know what is going to happen, so there is no point in postponing the inevitable. I have a place for you in my plans and your life wouldn't be that much different from what you remember."

Lex stared at her and swallowed hard. It was scary how casually she described taking complete control of his mind. He felt his right hand shake a little as he closed his grip on the device and slowly flipped up the protective cover on the big red button.

As Sliviuh crossed the intervening space, Lex spared a glance over his shoulder towards Chloe. Tears were streaming down her face, but when their eyes made contact, she said in a fierce whisper, "Do it, Lex!"

Sliviuh was just raising her arm to touch him when Lex pressed his thumb down hard on the button which triggered the special pulse of energy with the ability to zero out the storage memory of any nanobot within range.

Following an abrupt gasp he heard Chloe collapse to the floor behind him. But the device didn't appear to have the same effect on the dark haired girl standing before him. With a particularly cruel, evil grin on her face, she momentarily let her arm drop back to her side.

"Thanks, Lex. You just made the whole process of taking over Chloe a lot easier."

Lex continued to fruitlessly push the button on the device, as the girl once more raised her hand towards him. Damn, he should have realized she knew about the device from Lana's memories and would have some way to counteract the effect. But what other option had he had? He had learned about the situation with Sliviuh only a couple minutes before she had made her appearance in the storm cellar and since then she had been in perfect control of the whole situation.

And where the hell was Clark? He had known about Lana and Sliviuh for several days and the best solution he had come up with was a device that hadn't worked. For all his superhuman abilities, he apparently wasn't a match for a seventeen thousand year old girl with the equivalent of the world's most powerful supercomputer in her brain.

As the girl's hand rose to touch his face, Lex braced himself for the loss of his free will. He wondered briefly what it would be like. Would it feeling like he was trapped inside his body, but with no control over its actions? Or would his mind, as he knew it, simply cease to exist? He last thought as she made contact was that he wished she wasn't using Lana's body, as he didn't want his last memories of her to be corrupted. Lana had been the one good thing to ever happen in his life and now she was going to destroy him.

Therefore Lex was shocked when nothing seemed to happen to his mind or freewill at her first touch. Instead her hand slid around to the back of his neck and pulled him down into a ferociously aggressive kiss. This kiss wasn't like anything he had ever experienced with Lana before or even with Laura the one time they had kissed on the first day back in Rome when she had found herself in Lana's body. No, if a single kiss could qualify as a case of rape, this was it. Lex could feel blood welling from his lower lip where she bit down hard. Somehow with her intense drive to gain control of everything and dominate everyone, this physical approach without first fucking with his mind didn't seem like the Sliviuh he had expected.

When the girl's mouth finally released his, she pulled back a few inches and let out a small hiss of satisfaction. "I have been waiting months for this moment."

As Lex felt blood slowly trickle down towards his chin, he looked into her eyes. And what he saw wasn't the cold calculating light he had seen back in the storm cellar. No, what he saw now was something wild, almost insane. And that's when it clicked. This was how she had beaten the device in his pocket. It wasn't her. It wasn't Sliviuh. He had seen those eyes once before. They were the eyes of Tina Greer, the girl who could change her appearance at will and more than anything wanted to have Lana's life. And apparently Sliviuh had decided to give it to her. Obviously while he had been in the back of the van, the girls had traded places. So when he had finally been forced to use the device, Sliviuh had been safely out of the way. And of course the device wouldn't have any effect on Tina.

The whole situation seemed to become clear to Lex in a nanosecond. If her touch couldn't affect his mind, then he could use his greater physical strength to stop her. Quickly, Lex threw a hard left hook at the girl's face. It pained him for a moment as part of his head reacted like he had just been forced to hit Lana, but he fought the sensation down. He had to get free before the real Sliviuh showed up.

Unfortunately, the blow, which should have sent a ninety-five pound girl flying, merely rocked her back a couple of steps. Lex watched with a sinking feeling as she shook her head briefly before smiling.

"So you like it rough, Lex? Hmm, me too."

Then she reached out with one hand, grabbed the front of his shirt, and hoisted him into the air. With an ever widening grin, she easily tossed him the length of the small room. Lex thudded hard into the wall next to the closed door and slid to the floor with the wind momentarily knocked out of him.

He watched helplessly as Tina walked over and started to pat him down. Almost immediately she discovered what she was looking for and reached into his pant's pocket. Pulling out the device, she grinned at him as she closed her hand around it and clamped down. He clearly heard the sound of shattering plastic before she opened her hand and let the ruined bits and pieces drop to the floor.

Then as effortlessly as she had destroyed their one hope of defeating Sliviuh, she pulled him to his feet and twisted one arm roughly behind his back. Without bothering with the key, she ripped the door from its hinges and tossed it halfway across the large alcove beyond.

"Tina, you don't have to do this." Lex forced out in barely more than a whisper, as he fought to get his breathe back. "I can give you money."

Tina jerked him around so she could look him in the eye. "Tina is gone. She died back in the asylum. I am Lana, your girlfriend. And we are going to be so happy together, happier than we ever were before. Now let's go find someplace more comfortable to have a little fun."

Twisting his arm until it felt like the tendons in his shoulder would surely rupture, she forced him from the small room. As they exited, Lex managed one last look inside. Chloe still lay in a dishearteningly small heap in the far corner. If only he had recognized the look in Tina's eyes earlier, he wouldn't have had to push the button. Clark was so going to kill him.

- - - - - - - 

Sliviuh watched from the safety of an abandon room on the far side of the alcove as Tina led Lex away. Everything had gone according to the plan. When she had arrived from 1936 Nazi Germany, her first thought had been to destroy the memory clearing device, as it seemed the only serious threat to her existence. But she had quickly used her 'bot system to run nearly countless scenarios and it had surprised her a little that this had been the solution with the highest probability of success. If she simply destroyed the device, there was a 42 probability another similar device that she didn't know about would be created. It also left a 26 probability that Chloe's willpower would be sufficient to prevent her from regaining her old body. Which meant, if she destroyed the device, there was barely a 30 probability of her both regaining her old body and being successful in her plan for world domination. But if the device was used to neutralize her old body, then her probability of success rose to 74. It had taken some careful timing to ensure the device was in a location where Clark would find it without letting him stumble across her prematurely, but it was beginning to look like the risk had paid off.

While waiting for Tina to get Lex and the device far enough away so she could safely make her move to reacquire her old body, she glanced back at the disembodied head and naked breasts of Nell Potter. Before sharing blood with her, all she had known about Nell had been from Lana's memories. And to Lana she had been a typical parental figure – sometimes loving and sometimes authoritative, sometimes generous and sometimes stingy, but never had Lana pictured her as a sexual being with her own hidden secrets and desires.

So when Sliviuh had obtained direct access to Nell's mind, she had been a little surprised about the long held desire the woman had had for Jonathan Kent. The two of them had grown up on adjoining farms and had gone to school together all the way through high school. Nell had always imagined they were going to end up married and happily together for the rest of their lives. But then Jonathan had gone away to college and met Martha and all of Nell's dreams had been shattered.

Sliviuh had needed a distraction to hold Jonathan and Roger's attention long enough to share blood once they bolted clear of the storm cellar and ran out into the woods, so she had decided since Nell had such strong feelings for Jonathan, he must have at least some for her. And what better way to grab the attention of two men then a naked woman. Well, make that a ghostly half naked, half invisible woman.

She had wanted to test Jeffrey Palmer's invisibility lotion for any bad interaction with the 'bots before using it on herself. Since she didn't have access to anyone else with an active 'bot system, the best she could do was test it on someone with a passive system. So Nell had become a guinea pig and Sliviuh had ended up watching the woman spread the lotion all over her naked body until only her breasts and face had remained visible. Even with her thousands of years of experience it had been a little unnerving seeing Nell's face floating in mid-air with her hair and the back half of her head completely invisible. When she had walked around behind Nell she wasn't sure what she would see – the back of her face seen from the inside, all veins, muscles, and exposed tissue? But instead she found from the back the woman was simply invisible. After walking back in front of Nell she had reached out and cautiously touched the woman's face. The 'bots in Nell's body had turned on the same as they always did when she touched someone she had infected. She had the 'bots perform a more detailed than normal self-diagnostic test and there was no indication their performance had in any way been degraded by the presence of the meteor rock enhanced lotion.

Therefore while Jonathan and Roger had brought Lex and Chloe back here to the LuthorCorp plant in the van, she had raced ahead to get to this spot where she could safely witness events between Lex and Tina as well as apply her own coating of the invisibility lotion. Fortunately, the invisibility lotion had always been just a backup in case Tina didn't manage to get Lex to use the device and then lead him away. It didn't look like it was going to be necessary, but she always liked to have as many fall-back strategies in place as possible. And there was still the possibility Clark might show up here unexpectedly before she was finished reacquiring her old body. She still shivered a little about the need to have walked down into the storm cellar herself, but she knew Clark had been on the lookout for meteor rocks and if she had sent Tina in her place, Clark would have spotted the subterfuge. So it had been necessary to get him out of the way before making the switch.

Enough fixating on the plan, she thought, everything is going according to schedule. Tina should have cleared at least two corners in the long corridor by now and she could safely enter the alcove, not that Lex could see her anyway even if he was still standing there.

Sliviuh reached down for the doorknob and missed it. Looking down, she suddenly realized how dependent people were on seeing their hands to know where they were relative to other objects. Feeling almost as though she was blind, she had to touch her hand to the door and then sweep it around until she finally made contact with the knob. Quickly she directed her 'bot system to overlay a pseudo-image of her body into her field of view. With a translucent version of her hand now visible, she turned the knob and stepped out into the alcove.

Briskly Sliviuh strode across the alcove towards the gaping doorway of the far room, only detouring slightly to avoid the spot where Tina had tossed its door. She smiled briefly as she wondered if Lex had figured out yet that the girl was Tina and not her, or that she had given Tina the Samson braid she had brought from 1936. Tina was going to have to keep Lex and possibly Clark occupied for awhile and she had decided the girl needed the strength advantage more than her.

Sliviuh had just reached the entrance to the room where Chloe lay when Lana struck again in another attempt to regain control of her body. If not for the translucent image of her hand the 'bot system was providing, as she staggered, she would have missed the door frame and fallen to the floor.

It was the most powerful attack Lana had launched to date and Sliviuh knew her control of Lana's body could now be measured in minutes, if not seconds. She had to get herself switched back into her own body before then or she would lose, perhaps forever, her rightful place in dominion over the planet.

After clinging helplessly to the door frame for too many precious seconds, she finally shuffled forward on wobbly legs. The fifteen feet to where her old body lay in a crumpled heap suddenly seemed like a thousand miles. Fifteen, fourteen, thirteen – she slowly counted off the intervening distance as she felt another attack from Lana approaching. Finally, while still almost five feet away, she stumbled and as she fell she stretched one invisible hand forward. Just as her body hit the floor, her fingers touched Chloe's.

- - - - - - 

The girl slowly came awake. Before she even opened her eyes she could sense she was out of doors. She could hear insects buzzing around and smell the odor of fresh green growing plant life. Opening her eyes, she found herself in the center of a large forest glade. About a hundred yards away, trees surrounded the glade on three sides. On the fourth side the grassy field slowly fell away into a small open valley beyond which stretched a range of snow-capped mountains.

The girl looked down at herself and found she was wearing a long green evening gown. It seemed vaguely familiar, but completely inappropriate for the current situation. Why was she wearing formal attire out here in the middle of the wilderness, she wondered.

Climbing to her feet, she slowly turned through a complete 360 degrees. When she didn't spot anything familiar, she wondered how she had gotten here. It was only then that it occurred to her she not only didn't have any memories of how she got here, but she didn't have any memories period. She had no idea who she was or where she lived.

The complete lack of memories should have frightened her, but for some reason it hadn't yet done so. She looked inside herself and though she couldn't remember anything, she knew in her heart she was tough and resourceful. She would simply move forward until her memories came back or she ran into someone who could explain the situation.

With another quick glance around, she turned and headed in the only open direction provided. The long encumbering gown she was wearing wouldn't lend itself to hiking through woods. And some instinct told her you should always head down hill or down stream when in search of civilization.

She hadn't moved more than five steps when an unearthly high pitched scream rent the air from the woods on her left. It was immediately followed by a bestial bass roar that seemed to shake the very ground. Then, when the roar ended, she realized the ground was literally shaking. Oh, not a continuous rumble, more like the pounding of some massive drum.

Immediately by instinct, she quickened her pace and turned her course in the direction of the trees in the opposite direction. She was too exposed out here and whatever was shaking the ground was definitely headed in her direction. Steadily watching over her shoulder, she was in the process of pulling the long gown up above her knees so she could move faster when the tops of the trees behind her began to shake. And by the way they shook from side to side, she knew no breeze was causing the action.

Suddenly, as another earth shattering roar filled the air, one of the trees right on the edge of the glade went crashing to the ground. Stepping through the broken foliage was a giant grey-green Tyrannosaurus Rex.

The girl momentarily ground to a halt in shock. What the hell was going on? T. Rex had been extinct for millions of years. She might not remember who she was, but she certainly remembered that dinosaurs were dead, buried, and had long since completed the process of transforming into petrochemicals. But even as she stood there, a second one came slinking out to stand beside the other. Their heads were down and their tails were raised such that their forty foot long bodies stretched out parallel to the ground. While their tails switched about, she heard loud snuffling sounds that she knew meant they were sniffing the air for the scent of prey.

She had no idea how good their eyesight was, but she quickly dropped to the ground to be a less visible target and began crawling for the trees still seventy five feet in front of her.

The ground continued to reverberate as the two massive beasts strode further out into the glade. She crawled as fast as she could, until she was forced to pause and look back when one of the beasts let out another mighty roar. The two dinosaurs were now standing near the center of the glade. The one that was roaring had its head raised high while its partner's head was down snuffling right at the ground. And by her best estimate, they were located right where she had first awakened.

Knowing the time for stealth was past the girl once more hiked up her gown and rose to make a dash for the cover of the trees, although she was beginning to wonder how much shelter they would provide. The T. Rexes could probably just bulldoze their way through in pursuit of her. And if this pair had appeared out of the trees on the far side of the glade, who knew what other dangers the trees in front of her might hide. But she didn't have any choice but try, as standing where she was would be simple suicide.

Between trying to scan the trees ahead and keeping watch on the dinosaurs behind her, she didn't pay enough attention to the ground immediately in front of her. As she ran, her left foot landed in a small hole in the ground and she went tumbling down. For a moment she lay there on her back trying to catch her breath and get herself ready for one final sprint to the trees.

Then, even as she felt the ground begin to shake again, indicating the dinosaurs were once more on the move, she saw something in the sky that was so unexpected it made the presence of dinosaurs seem perfectly normal.

Four figures were rapidly descending. It was hard to judge size and distance from her current position, but they didn't give the feeling of being simple birds. Then as their approach made them seem to rapidly grow, the girl realized none of them presented a traditional bird's silhouette. And not only weren't they bird-shaped, they weren't even all similarly shaped. In fact, she was almost startled when she realized only two of them even appeared to have wings and they both had wildly varying bodies.

The first winged figure finally resolved itself into a man sporting a pair of giant white wings that had to span almost twenty feet when fully extended. He was dressed all in white and was carrying a large staff adorned with a giant blue stone at one end.

The second winged creature wasn't a man, but rather some kind of four-legged beast. It seemed to be flying in formation with the man and from that the girl could get a sense of scale. And the creature was large. Its wings, which were the light brown shade of desert sand, had a span of at least forty-five feet. Its body quickly resolved into the shape of a giant cat. However, it wasn't until the creature did a graceful banking turn in her direction that she realized it was carrying a passenger on its back – a human shaped passenger dressed in shimmering golden armor.

She was just turning her attention to the other two, the surprisingly wingless figures when the winged man let out a mighty bellow that recaptured her attention. Immediately she saw what looked like miniature lightening bolts racing up and down his arm. After only a couple of seconds the lightening bolts made the jump to the body of the shaft he was carrying. It was only a few more seconds before they started to congregate around the blue gemstone adorning the upper end of the shaft. Abruptly the stone emitted a brilliant red flash and then as her vision cleared a beam of red light shot down and struck the nearest dinosaur in the neck.

The beast let out a mighty roar of pain and rage. As it lifted its head to snap at the almost solid beam, the brilliant light punched straight through its neck. Just as the smell of cooking meat reached the girl, the beam of light began to traverse across the neck of the beast like a giant knife blade. The beast twisted and turned, but the killing beam followed its every move. After only a few seconds, the beam reached the spinal cord. The giant T. Rex shuddered once before its right leg buckled and it went crashing to the ground not more the thirty feet from where the girl still lay frozen in shock at the completely unexpected chain of events which had transpired in the bare five minutes since she had awoken. However even before the creature's final collapse was complete, the powerful beam had severed sufficient tissue and muscle to cause the head to tear free and tumble to the ground separately. The head rolled in the girl's direction and came within fifteen feet before finally coming to rest.

As she stared at the decapitated head, which had fallen such that one eye seemed to stare at her in a malevolent way, the fallen beast's partner let out a ferocious roar and began charging in her direction. At first she thought it was trying to attack her since she was the only reachable target. And apparently her winged savior thought so, too, as the barely extinguished beam of light quickly sprang back into existence and was targeting this new adversary.

But just before the powerful beam of light struck the surviving dinosaur, it became obvious the girl wasn't its target, but rather its downed brethren. However its wildly charging approach had almost the same effect as it hit the fallen dinosaur with so much speed and force that it pushed the ten thousand pound remains a further fifteen feet in the girl's direction, leaving the nearest exposed foreleg seemingly just beyond her reach if she were to extend her hand. But despite their sudden close proximity, the remaining dinosaur gave her no notice as it sank its teeth into the exposed left rump of the fallen one. It had just begun to tear loose the first mouthful when the beam of light from the winged man connected. However this time, whether because he was rushed or some other reason, the beam missed the killing shot to the neck and instead struck near the root of the extended tail.

At first the dinosaur didn't pause from its feeding frenzy, but merely danced about swishing its tail as though to dislodge some giant annoying insect. The girl couldn't help but wonder if this strange land with its prehistoric monsters might also hold some giant prehistoric insects, too. As visions of humungous six-foot mosquitoes capable of drawing all the blood from a human body in a few seconds danced through her head, she abruptly realized that as it tried to get away from the attacking beam of light without giving up its dinner, the dinosaur was working its way around the fallen carcass and its giant extended tail was getting dangerously close.

The girl tried to scrabble away, but her legs suddenly seemed to be entangled in her gown's tight skirt. Then just as it seemed the heavy, coarsely scaled tail was going to hit her, the other winged creature descended to the ground directly on top of her. The giant cat-creature was suddenly straddling her body with its forelegs between her and the dinosaur. She felt as much as saw the shock of contact ripple down the cat's body as it raised one of its forepaws and deflected the dinosaur's wildly swinging tail.

The impact of the two large beasts seemed to dislodge the rider from the back of the winged cat. The girl watched as he tumbled to the ground. He hit the ground with a roll and in one smooth motion pulled a bright, glowing sword from the scabbard strapped to his broad muscular back. She barely caught a glimpse of a handsome face framed by shoulder length auburn hair before he was up and moving towards the still feeding giant reptile.

The combined actions of the winged man's staff, the walking man's sword, and the winged cat's claws were finally sufficient to drive the wounded, but still mobile T. Rex away from where the girl lay and on around to the other side of its dead companion. As the giant winged cat moved forward in pursuit, it carefully stepped past the girl. When she struggled up into a sitting position, the final two members of the flying quartet dropped lightly to the ground on her left side.

While trying to keep one eye on the still ongoing battle with the dinosaur, the girl glanced to her left. The first thing she saw were two pairs of long, graceful legs that had to belong to girls, not men. From her half seated/half reclined position the legs seem to stretch up and up and up. Finally both pairs of legs terminated in short skirts, one in a metallic red & gold and the other in a metallic blue & gold.

The nearer girl extended down a hand. "Here, let me help you up."

As the girl allowed herself to be pulled to her feet, she was able to get a better look at the pair of girls. The nearer one, who had provided the helping hand, had short jet black hair and looked to be about sixteen. The other girl had much longer hair tied back in a ponytail that was also very dark, but veered to the reddish end of the spectrum while the first girl's was the true black which ended up projecting almost a bluish shimmer. And the second girl, while three or four inches taller than the first, looked much younger – certainly no more than twelve or thirteen.

The three girls stood in silence for a minute as they all watched the final moments of the battle. The winged man's red beam was steadily cutting through the dinosaur's torso. The man with the sword was steadily hacking at the tendons supporting its right rear leg. And the cat, which the girl now realized was more specifically based on a lion's body, albeit three times the normal size and with wings, was using the wings to lift itself just high enough to be able to bat at the dinosaur's head with its heavily clawed front paws.

As the dinosaur collapsed to the ground and began its violent death throes, the girl with the short dark hair turned to the girl in the green gown. "It feels like I have been waiting almost forever for you to appear. But why did you have to pick this location? Dinosaur country is a dangerous place to be alone."

"Do you," began the girl hesitantly, "know who I am or how I got here?"

The black hair girl frowned. "Don't you know?"

When the other girl shook her head, she continued. "Your name is Chloe. Does that ring any bells?"

Again the girl shook her head.

"Damn, I was certain you would have the answers I need." After a brief pause, she continued. "My name is Lana." Then gesturing for the other younger girl to step closer, she added, "This is my daughter, Lena."

Just then the relative silence which had begun with the death of the second giant reptile was shattered by the bellows of three more T. Rexes entering the glade from almost the same spot the original two had emerged. Immediately the three combatants who had been approaching the three girls turned and prepared to continue the battle.

"Wait," shouted Lana. When the two men and the giant lion paused and turned to look at her, she continued. "You have had your fun. We need to focus on more important things."

Then, as the girl who now knew her name was Chloe looked on, Lana turned in the direction of the three new adversaries, raised her right arm with her palm extended outward, and spoke in a powerful commanding tone, "SLEEP!"

In immediate response all three dinosaurs seemed to lose their balance and tumbled to the ground with a mighty crash that seemed to echo off the surrounding trees. Soon all that could be heard was a rushing sound like three great bellows used in an old-fashioned blacksmith's forging furnace. Remarkably, the three great beasts were snoring.

Chloe looked from the girl named Lana to the slumbering dinosaurs and back to the girl. Wondering how Lana had done it, she raised one eyebrow in question.

"Magic," was the one word response. Then seeing the confused look on Chloe's face, she continued. "Some of us are endowed with powerful magical abilities here. Well, most places anyway. It is how Lena and I can fly without wings among other things. Now, as I was saying we have more important things demanding our attention than playing with dinosaurs."

As Chloe stood there trying to come to terms with all of the unexpected, seemingly impossible things she had witnessed in the ten minutes since she had first awoken, she couldn't help but follow Lana's gaze towards the three approaching warriors.

Chloe had not had a chance to get a good solid look at the men's faces with their abrupt arrival and instantaneous transition into battle, but now as they approached she had the opportunity. The nearer man, the one with the auburn hair and the shiny gold breastplate, didn't ring any bells with her still missing memories. But when she got a good look at the second one, the one with the large white wings and the face and body that seemed straight from some angel or mythical god, she felt an unexpected flutter in her heart. She knew him. She couldn't remember his name and the wings seemed all wrong, but she was certain she knew him.

Unable to stop herself, she found her body moving of its own accord. Quickly, she stepped past the first man and moved towards the second. Her heart was pounding as she reached the tall, dark-haired winged warrior. Gazing up, she felt almost hypnotized by his incredibly handsome face. From his startlingly blue eyes to the pearly white teeth that seemed to almost glow with an internal light, she was certain he was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. And though she had no memory of him, she simply knew to the core of her being that this man was her soul mate.

They stood there staring into each others eyes for hardly more than a moment when she saw a spark of recognition flare in his eyes. The polite, friendly smile he had been displaying during his approach suddenly grew into something more. Then before she could react, not that she would have resisted anyway, he swept her up into his arms and she found her feet suddenly dangling a foot from the ground. She moved to wrap her arms around his back, but found this position blocked by the juncture of his powerful wings with his broad back. Instead she raised her arms until her left hand was wrapped around the back of his neck and her right hand was tangled in his thick black hair. By some mutual unspoken agreement, their mouths were drawn together into a magical kiss.

Chloe didn't want the moment or the kiss to ever end, but eventually it did. Slowly, pulling her head back no more than the three inches necessary to be able to focus on his eyes, she whispered. "I don't remember your name."

No flicker of surprise or concern passed over his face. Instead he graced her with another of his impossible smiles before whispering back. "Ares." Then he leaned back in for a second even more passionate kiss.

Lana watched the almost erotic embrace between her long time traveling companion and the blonde girl. Except for the day when she had found Alexander or the day her beloved daughter was born, this was the happiest moment in the nearly two thousand years she had been trapped in this existence. For she knew Ares had been waiting for this moment almost as long as she had. For her it meant this endless quest was finally nearing its conclusion while for him it meant reuniting with his long lost love.

She felt Alexander step up beside her and wrap his arm around her waist. As she wrapped her right arm around him in return and rested her head against his shoulder, she extended her left hand out and interwove her fingers with Lena's. For a moment the three of them just stood there and basked in the happiness radiating from their old friend.

The spell which seemed to encompass the five was finally broken when Fah stepped near and exclaimed with her deep, yet feminine voice. "SHE has sensed our presence. It is time we were going."

Chloe turned within Ares' arms at this new and unexpected voice. She found herself gazing almost eye-to-eye with the large winged lion. But what she hadn't noticed before was that while the creature had the body and mane of a lion, it had the face of a girl – a greatly oversized face in proportion with its magnificent body, but the face of a girl none the less. And as she gazed at its face, there was something strikingly familiar about it.

Motioning for Ares to lower her feet back to the ground, she took his hand and then strode over to where the beast stood next to Lana and the others.

Gazing up, Chloe asked, "Do I know you?"

The hybrid lion creature tilted its head down; then merely stared at her with a quizzical expression on its face. Finally, it was Lana who spoke up.

"Chloe, this is Fah."

Chloe felt a faint tingling in her head as though the name Fah held some significance in her forgotten past, but after a moment it was gone.

She tried to turn her attention to Lana, but couldn't seem to pull her gaze way from Fah. "There is something familiar about your face," she finally said.

"Well, of course there is," responded Fah in her deep booming voice with a grin.

Chloe still hadn't figured out what it was when Lana interjected. "Here this might help."

Chloe turned just in time to see an object magically appear in Lana's hand. As Lana extended it towards her, Chloe recognized it was an ornately decorated hand mirror. Taking it, she saw Lana gesture that she should use it to look at her own reflection.

As she raised the mirror, Chloe realized she had no more memory of her own appearance than she had of her name or any other aspect of her past. It was with a mixture of fear and excitement that after a deep breath she moved the mirror so she could see her own reflection.

For a moment she drew a blank at the stranger's face staring back at her. She knew it was her face, but at first she felt no recognition as she took in the short, light blonde hair, the green eyes, and the way the gums above her upper front teeth were exposed when she tried a smile. Then suddenly it registered as her eyes darted back up to the face of the lion – they shared the same face. Oh, there were some differences most obvious of which was Fah's eyes - a bright unnatural gold without any surrounding whites and with vertical cat pupils rather than round human ones. But in overall appearance, the lion's face was a match to the one she saw in the mirror.

"How?" was all Chloe managed to get out.

Lana too was starting to sense HER presence and noticed the dinosaurs she had put to sleep were already beginning to stir. Fah had been right; they needed to continue this conversation in safer environs. If they were going to finally defeat HER, the battle needed to be at a time and place of their choosing and not HERS.

"There is no time now. We will explain everything when we get to a safer location." Answered Lana, finding she needed to raise her voice almost to a shout at the end as they were buffeted by a powerful wind that seemed to have sprung out of nowhere.

Chloe glanced around at the sudden change in the weather. Storm clouds were rapidly filling the sky and more and more bolts of lightening were stabbing down into the surrounding trees. Then her glance turned to the far side of the clearing and she saw the supposedly tranquil dinosaurs struggling back to their feet. Yes, she thought, it was definitely time to get out of there.

As she turned back toward the others, she saw the man with the golden breastplate, who hadn't even been introduced yet, scrambling up onto Fah's back. The two girls were already levitating and had risen more than ten feet off of the ground. As Chloe wondered how she was going to follow along, she felt Ares' presence suddenly behind her.

"May I give you a lift?" he asked. And then without waiting for a response, he swept her up into his arms and with a powerful stroke of his wings they were airborne.

And not a moment to soon, realized Chloe as she looked down and saw how a massive thunderbolt struck right were they had been standing.

The wind buffeted them back and forth as Ares climbed for altitude. Chloe knew she should be overwhelmed with fear as the ground dwindled away below them, but she wasn't. No, she felt perfectly safe and protected in Ares' strong arms. As they winged ever higher, she wondered towards what destiny she was headed.

- - - - - 

Tina flung Lex down on the old mattress in the corner of the room before throwing herself down on top of him. As she forced another unwanted kiss upon him, Lex was annoyed at his body's reaction. He knew in his head it was Tina, but she looked like Lana, she sounded like Lana, she even smelled like Lana and he felt himself starting to get hard. As her hands started to rip his shirt off one button at a time, he tried to will his erection down.

They were still in the underground complex below the fertilizer plant, but when Tina had forced Lex out of the room where Chloe had fallen comatose, she had headed down yet another corridor Lex hadn't seen before. How big was this place he had wondered again as she marched him through twist after turn while holding his arm behind his back in a hammerlock hold.

When she finally moved her kisses to his right ear and freed his mouth, Lex tried to get control of the situation.

"Tina, you . . ."

But before he could get anything else out, the girl slapped her hand down hard across his mouth.

"DON'T YOU CALL ME THAT EVER AGAIN," she shouted. "I am Lana. You are my boyfriend. So start acting like it."

As she finished speaking, she removed her hand from his mouth and moved it down to join her other hand at his belt. Then, as though it was the easiest thing in the world, she ripped the heavy stiff leather into two pieces. After the brutal treatment she had given his belt, Lex was almost afraid of what she was going to do next, but she gently grasped his zipper between two fingers and the sudden quiet was only broken by the tick, tick, tick of the zipper being lowered one careful tooth at a time.

When the zipper was all the way down, Lex expected her to slide her hand inside and was steeling himself not to react. Or at least not react anymore than he already had. But with an impish grin that looked just like the real Lana, Tina instead reached up and grabbed the waistband of his pants and boxers on each side.

Pausing only long enough to say, "I've been waiting a long time for this, Lex," Tina gave a sharp, superhuman tug and pulled them both down below his knees.

She was just slithering back up his body when Lex noticed movement behind her. Forcing his eyes away from where her hand had grasped him, he looked up to see a sight he had been hoping for since he was back in the storm cellar – although he wished it had arrived ten seconds earlier.

"Sorry, am I interrupting? I can come back later," announced the deep male voice with the smallest touch of humor.

Tina stiffened and Lex grimaced as her grip tightened to a painful degree.

"Ah, Clark, I was hoping you would get here eventually," responded Tina after a moment in her best Lana voice, as she slowly removed her hand from Lex. "I was just getting Lex warmed up."

Tina climbed to her feet and took half a step to the side so Clark couldn't help but see Lex's naked body while she kept Lex firmly pinned in place with her right foot on his chest. Then she pulled the straps of her tank top down from her shoulders until the top slid down around her waist. After slowly licking her lips, she purred. "I hope you are ready for a nice little ménage à trois. I have been dreaming about having the both of you for months. How about you, Clark? Have you ever dreamed of sharing me with Lex? You know, rubbing your hard naked body against my front while Lex does the same to my back?"

Lex stared at the side of the girl's exposed breast and realized it wasn't helping his 'problem' any. Nor were the thoughts running through his head based on her comments. In his earlier pre-Smallville days he had slept with two women at once on several occasions, but he had never shared a girl with another guy. For just a moment the thought of sharing Lana with Clark did flash through his mind. Then he remembered his conversation with Chloe in the van on what was going to happen when they reached their destination and what they could do. Somehow ending up naked in a room with Clark and a topless Tina Greer with Lana's body had never come up during their conversation.

Finally getting his wits about him, Lex exclaimed. "Clark, she's not . . ."

But that was all the further he got before Tina executed a lightning fast roundhouse kick that caught Clark squarely on the chin.

Clark's body did a back flip as it went screaming across the room. Then just before he should have hit the far wall in an upside down position, he simply stopped in mid-air. He hung there for a fraction of a second before gracefully twisting around until he was right side up and facing them, but still hovering a good eight inches above the floor.

As Clark hung there for a moment, Lex noticed the three foot diameter hole in the ceiling above Clark that hadn't been there when Tina had first brought him into this room. Then, as he watched, a big glob of something glowing molten red dripped from the hole and landed sizzling on Clark's shoulder. He quickly realized this hole was how Clark had reached them; apparently he had burned his own passage directly down to this level with his heat vision thing.

Abruptly, Lex found his voice again. "Clark, she's not . . ."

And before he got any further with this second attempt at a warning, Clark blurred and then vanished. A second later Tina was lying on the mattress next to him with her top back in place, her arms tightly bound behind her back, her legs bound at the knees and ankles with about a hundred coils of some metallic cable, and with a gag in her mouth. Clark meanwhile was standing over them with a long braid of hair dangling from his right hand.

"Not Lana," said Lex finally able to complete his sentence. "She's Tina Greer."

"Yeah, I know."

"How did you know?" asked Lex as he struggled to get his pants pulled back up.

"Oh, several things, the first was the expression on your face."

Lex looked up at his best friend and quirked an eyebrow trying to look dignified, but finding it difficult having just been lying there almost completely naked.

"It was such a 'shocked to see me' expression. If it had really been Sliviuh's hand on your . . well," Clark paused for a moment to wave his hand in the general direction of Lex's groin before starting again. "If it had been Sliviuh touching you, you would have been totally oblivious to my presence." Clark shook his head, as memories of earlier events filled his mind. "When Whitney was dying back on the Nazi battleship, he had to have known Sliviuh could have saved him but she chose not to, yet his last words were still a request that I look out for her safety. If it had been Sliviuh touching you, you would have been in the same enthralled state."

In the few minutes they had been together back in the storm cellar and again with his appearance here, Lex had been struck by the sudden change in Clark. There was this new feeling of maturity about him as though he was no longer sixteen, but more like ten years older. Although maybe maturity wasn't quite the word he was looking for. No, maybe it was just the image of calm confidence in his strengths and abilities he now projected. Anyway, it was almost a relief to see a little of the old Clark show through when he couldn't bring himself to say cock or dick or penis and only point in the general direction to complete his thought.

Lex's thoughts were interrupted when Clark continued with just a hint of grin. "So the girl doing the efficient job of relieving you of your clothing couldn't have been Sliviuh and had to be someone else. After she kicked me, I took another look at her with my x-ray vision and saw the traces of kryptonite in her bones; I knew it had to be Tina."

"Kryptonite?" asked Lex trying to keep the conversation moving forward in a useful direction and away from his state of undress as he finally got his pants up and zipped.

"Ah, my new, improved word for meteor rocks based on what I now know about their origins."

Lex rolled off the mattress and climbed to his feet. For a moment he stared down at Tina who still looked like Lana. She had a combined look of hatred and madness in her eyes he had never seen before. A small shiver ran down his spine at the thought of the havoc they could create if both Sliviuh and Tina were running around looking like Lana at the same time. Lex raised a hand and ran it through his short stubbly auburn hair as the thought of two Lana's briefly morphed into a totally different ménage à trios than the one Tina had suggested. Then realizing what his hand was doing, he forced it back down to his side – playing with his still relatively new hair was a bad habit he didn't want to pick up.

Trying to bring his mind back to the current situation, Lex turned to Clark. Taking his first good look at his friend, Lex asked, "Where have you been? You look like hell."

Clark glanced down and seemed to notice the state of his coveralls for the first time. When Lex had awoken back in the storm cellar, Clark's gray coveralls had looked brand new. Now they were ripped, torn, and looked like they had been through a fire and maybe a flood or two.

"Sliviuh has been running me around and around the planet. My last stop was the Ulyanovskaya coal mining complex near Novokuznetsk, Siberia where she had ignited a methane gas pocket and trapped over a hundred twenty miners. Before that she blew the bottom out of the polar cruise ship 'Shokalskiy' fifteen miles north of the island of Spitzbergen up above the Artic Circle. She does seem to have a thing for blowing things up."

Clark paused for a moment to contemplate the highly visible series of feats Sliviuh had forced him to perform across half the planet. From the gaping hole leading to the ancient secret room under the Sphinx to the incident at the Eiffel Tower to the rescue of the ship in the Artic, his exploits were going to be all over the news within the next few hours and he was certain someone was going to be able to trace it all back to him and his home in Smallville.

"And it isn't over yet. In just over four minutes, she has arranged an explosion at a natural gas liquification plant in Bintulu, Malaysia. So I can't stay long."

"How did you find me?"

Clark shrugged. "I am a lot faster and more powerful now than Sliviuh realizes. On my way from Spitzbergen to Siberia, I looped passed Smallville and spotted your SOS, but didn't have time to stop."

For a moment Clark's mind returned to events up in the Artic Sea. When he had reached the Shokalskiy, she had already been settling heavily into the water. The crew and passengers had been about to abandon ship into the frigid artic waters - miles from land and the nearest help. As he had done with the great Nazi battleship, he had lifted the Shokalskiy, a bare quarter of the Hitler's length and a twentieth of her mass, into the air and had flown it the fifteen miles to the island and then deposited it almost a mile inland on the first large flat spot he had found. Unfortunately, even though he was almost due north of Paris where it had been the middle of the night, the Shokalskiy and the island of Spitzbergen were well north of the Artic Circle in a location with 24 hours of sunlight. There had been no hiding what he had done under the cover of darkness and he was certain someone had probably caught him, once again, on film.

Clark didn't see anyway he was going to be able to cover up all the superhuman things he had done in the past few minutes in locations all over the world, but that was a problem for later. First he needed to solve the situation with Sliviuh.

"Lex, where's Chloe? What happened with the device?"

Lex had been so focused on the situation with Tina, he had almost forgotten Clark didn't know about Chloe. He felt his face tighten as he tried to figure out how to explain the situation. Quickly he decided it was best to just blurt it out and try to move forward.

He nodded down to the still struggling Tina. "Sliviuh and Tina switched places without my realizing it. When Tina made a move to touch me, I was forced to use the device. Unfortunately Chloe was trapped right behind me. We had discussed it earlier and Chloe agreed it was better to wipe both their 'bot systems than risk Sliviuh getting control of her body, too." Lex paused and shook his head before continuing. "So I may have destroyed Chloe's mind without accomplishing anything to stop Sliviuh. I am so sorry Clark."

Clark turned pale, but he quickly seemed to get a hold of himself. "Where's the device? We have to try again."

Lex shook his head again. "I think Sliviuh was expecting us to use the device or else she wouldn't have substituted Tina. As soon as I used it, the first thing Tina did was to take from me and destroy it."

Clark nodded. "How is Chloe? Where is she?"

Lex found himself running his hand through his hair again. "When I pushed the button, she collapsed to the floor. She was still lying there unconscious when Tina dragged me here. I can lead you back to where I last saw her."

Clark started to nod and then stopped. "Damn, I have to go to Malaysia right now. Sliviuh's bomb could kill tens of thousands of people if it destroys the whole facility. Wait for me and don't do anything stupidly heroic. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Clark tossed the braid of hair, but before it even reached Lex, he had vanished.

The braid landed in Lex's hand and before his fingers fully closed around it, he started to feel its effect. The power surged through him and through him; quickly achieving a level he had never imagined. Was this how Clark felt, he wondered. It was suddenly as though he as strong as fifty, no maybe a hundred men. His mind raced back to ancient Rome where Clark had thrown the giant obelisk and he now almost felt like he could do the same.

With one last glance down at Tina he started towards the door knowing he was about to do the 'stupidly heroic' thing Clark had warned him about, but unable to stop himself. Wrapping the braid around his waist, his mind was already busy trying to figure out how to use his new-found strength to defeat Sliviuh. Oh, he couldn't simply kill her, as that would kill Lana too, but there must be some way to trap her until they came up with another plan to get her out of Lana's body.

"Don't let her touch me. Don't let her touch me," was the mantra he quietly whispered as he headed back in the direction where he had last seen Chloe.

- - - - - 

Chloe stared into the large gilded mirror standing in the corner of the tent. She had been here for almost three months, but still didn't feel prepared. Certainly not like Lana, but then if she was to believe her, Lana had spent one thousand nine hundred fifty seven years on the road to this day. At first that had seemed impossible to believe. But the longer she had been here interacting with Ares, Fah, Lana, and the rest, and witnessing all the things that were possible here that she knew should have been impossible, the more she believed Lana's improbable tale.

Abruptly the tent flap lifted and the continuous low background rumble jumped to a full-fledged roar. Glancing towards the entrance, she recognized Lena as the flap dropped back down into place behind the girl. And Lena was just one more aspect of the impossible nature of this place. The girl's age appeared to be frozen at roughly thirteen, yet if she was to believe the rest of Lana's story, then she also needed to accept that Lana's daughter's true age was eight hundred forty three.

"Here, let me help you," exclaimed the girl as she bound across the room on her long, gangly adolescent legs.

As Lena stepped up behind her, Chloe found her eyes drawn back to mirror and the image it was showing. For just a second it struck her once again how life wasn't fair. Here was a girl who looked barely teenaged, but who already towered over her by at least five inches.

"I am so excited that after today's war council things are finally going to start moving into the final phase," said Lena as she adjusted the leather strap under Chloe's right arm which had been giving her so much trouble.

When Lena finished and took a half step back, Chloe rolled her right shoulder, raised and lowered her arm, and then rolled her shoulder again. The adjustment Lena had made had really helped. The leather padding under the breastplate had been pinching her right breast in a most annoying way. Now she could much more easily and freely move her arm.

"Thanks."

Lena nodded and then turned to the nearby chest and extracted a leather thong. Chloe pulled her still relatively short hair back as Lena centered the magically endowed crest on Chloe's forehead and then tied the straps snuggly behind her head.

Looking back into the mirror, Chloe saw how her hair partially obscured the crest, but it didn't seem to affect its functionality as the jade and gold image of a mystical third eye began to integrate into her senses. At first she still saw the mirror throw back an image of herself dressed in the gold and jade breastplate and matching short green skirt. But slowly it faded to translucent until she could see straight through the mirror to what lay beyond. Oh, it wasn't as though she had developed true x-ray vision (where did that term come from she wondered for an instant), but it was as though she could see the auras of the individuals moving passed the outside of her tent. They were just indistinct colored blobs, but after the time she had spent practicing with the device, she was developing some skill at reading the wash of colors and what they conveyed about the person's mood. The hardest part had been the surprisingly large number of non-human creatures and people she had encountered; she was still struggling to quickly identify their underlying colors and the resultant impact on the hues of their moods and personalities.

"So, are you ready?" asked Lena as she seemed to almost bounce on her toes in her excitement. "The council should almost be ready to begin."

Chloe looked at the girl and couldn't help but see with the aid of the third eye the shimmer of blue surrounding the girl. She knew the blue was going to shift a lot more towards gray when Lena found out that Lana intended for her to remain safely behind.

Chloe closed her eyes for a moment to prepare for stepping outside the tent. The magical protections woven into the tent's cloth to help obscure her presence from their opponent's minions also, as a side benefit, limited the range of her third eye. But once outside she would be fully exposed to the auras of the millions of combatants assembled for this great campaign. When she had first tried on the powerful amulet, she had thought she was going to go blind from the overwhelming kaleidoscope of swirling colors and patterns. She had learned to control the third eye, but it was still rather daunting during the first moments of exposure.

Opening her eyes, Chloe smiled at Lena. "Yes, let's be on our way. We don't want to keep the others waiting." Then she strode forward in what she hoped was a brisk and confident manner.

Sweeping aside the woven tapestry covering the tent's opening, Chloe stepped out into the brilliant sunlit day. She paused for a moment to take in the view and to give her enhanced senses a chance to adjust.

Her tent was located high on the hillside overlooking the broad valley. The entire valley was filled from one end to the other with hundreds of thousands of tents to support the main army's encampment. Not that even this great mass of humanity represented the true extent of Lana's army, as she knew four other nearby valleys were also filled almost to capacity. Chloe still marveled that Lana had been able to pull together a fighting force over fourteen million strong, but then she had called in every marker, favor, allegiance, and promise accumulated over nearly two thousand years in this strange realm that seemed to exist in a distorted sort of space-time. For just a week earlier Emperor Han Tao-Ling, Fourteenth Overlord of Chin, and his million strong army had arrived from an empire that had been nothing but a dusty memory for more than a thousand years.

"Come on, we need to go," said Lena lightly touching Chloe's arm.

Chloe nodded and followed the winding course the younger girl set down the side of the steep hill. Even from here, she was catching glimpses between the intervening tents of the large gaudily festooned tent standing in the center of the valley which Lana used for the War Council meetings. And already she could see people passing through the surrounding honor guard to enter the tent. They were still a fifteen minute hike away and as she saw others making an aerial approach, either through their own abilities or via some winged beast, she wondered if they should have recruited Fah for a lift. But she quickly decided arriving in fifteen minutes would be good enough; these meetings always seemed to start with a lot of venting of problems and general frustrations before Lana reined everyone in and got down to business. Although since this was the last full assembly of Lana's generals before they scattered to their individual assignments, there just might be less carping than usual. Or not.

As they reached the valley's floor, Chloe noticed how most of the cooking fires were being doused and tents were being struck. At least this portion of the army would be ready to march as soon as the council broke up. Glancing down the valley to her right, she could see the cloud-shrouded peaks of Cocytus, their intended target. She couldn't suppress a shudder at sudden memories of the stories she had heard about the horrors to be found in that dark and forbidding realm. Hopefully, this magnificent army would be enough to breach its formidable defenses. Or at least be enough to distract their opponent's attention while she and Lana made an end-run to their true goal. For a moment she once again experienced a sense of déjà vu, as this plan seemed to almost bring back memories from her still lost previous existence.

"We're going to be late," exclaimed Lena, as she grabbed Chloe's hand and tugged her forward at almost a run.

With a sigh, Chloe picked up her pace to a trot. At once a straight path seemed to clear through the crowded field, almost as if by magic. And knowing Lena, there probably was a touch of magic in the air. Although with the way every man in the army seemed to dote on the girl as though she was his long lost daughter, Lena didn't need to expend much real magic.

In less than a minute they covered the half-mile which had originally separated them from the large blue and gold council tent, and Chloe was certain Lena had used some time-distance distorting magic. The girl's abilities were truly amazing, but then she had spent her whole life here and had obviously inherited most of Lana's gifts. For a moment Chloe found herself wishing she had some of those gifts, too, but it didn't seem to be the case. No, if she wanted to have near magical abilities, it would have to be through things like the amulet. And if she wanted to fly, she couldn't just levitate like Lana and Lena, but had to get a lift from someone like Fah or Aries.

Lena finally slowed to a walk about twenty feet short of the hundred man honor guard surrounding the tent. She tried to cross the remaining distance with a dignified stride, but it was impossible to keep the look of excitement from her face. Then disappointment briefly swept across her face as she stepped up to Sigurd Gudtormsen, the head of the guard. It looked like she expected a challenge, or a request for a secret password, or something, but the tall blond Viking with the large war-axe and shield hanging across his broad back just gave a terse nod before stepping out of the way. Chloe gave a brief return nod before following the girl into the tent's dim interior.

Inside they discovered the six main generals along with Lana, Alexander, and Ares sprawled on cushions in a loose circle around a central brazier that was trailing a narrow column of jasmine and sandalwood scented smoke up to a small central opening in the tent's roof. Arrayed behind the generals were another fifteen to twenty of their chief lieutenants.

As soon as they entered, Ares caught Chloe's eye with a broad grin. She felt a warm glow inside as a matching smile spread across her face. As she moved towards him, the brilliant white glow which she saw surrounding him through the power of the amulet once again threatened to overwhelm her. The aura which she saw around everyone else was always tinged with color, but only Ares' was always the pure white of perfect goodness. He glowed like a god among men. Her God.

"Now that everyone is finally here," began Lana, as Chloe settled herself comfortably within Ares' arms and Lena found a spot on the far side of her father. "Let me summarize the latest intelligence the scouts have brought back."

Lana gave a brief wave of her hand and suddenly four large maps hung in the air around the central fire so that everyone would have a clear view of at least one of them.

"Okay, as we have previously discussed, we will be using a three-pronged attack. The first army under the leadership of Emperor Tao-Ling will use the southern approach passing through the Elysian Pass and then across the Asphodel Valley before entering Cocytus proper. Now our latest information shows heavy troop movement into the valley and work has started to refurbish the old fortifications in the pass. Your forces should be able to get through with little difficult during the next week, but after that it will become much more difficult."

Chloe saw Lana glance over towards the oriental Emperor. When Chloe followed her gaze, she saw the Emperor nod.

"That is what we expected," began Emperor Tao-Ling and his two younger associates behind him nodded their concurrence. "My forces broke camp at dawn. The bulk of my army will be through the pass within four days."

The Emperor paused for a moment before continuing. "Any word from your scouts about the wyere-dragons? If they make a showing before we reach the pass while my troopers are strung out on the trail . . . Well, it could significantly slow our progress."

Lana shook her head. "No reported sightings, but unfortunately that means little. With their speed and range, the wyere-dragons might show up with almost no warning."

The Emperor nodded and a stoic expression spread across his face. "We will simply hope for the best and be prepared for the worst. I have dealt with them before and I do have a trick or two up my sleeve."

Lana inclined her head in acknowledgement. And as her hair slipped clear of her forehead, Chloe saw she was wearing a third-eye amulet which matched her own.

Lana gestured back towards the central maps. "Okay, that takes care of the southern flank. Now Alexander and I will be leading the main central force against the Gates of Malebolge. They are magically fortified which is why Ares, King Suleiman, and Asmodeus will be with the central group. The scouts in the hills before the gates estimate just over a million troops are massed behind the gates and they are being reinforced daily. More ominous, several different scouts have reported sightings of Aello and Ocypete, which likely means Podarge is in the area, too."

Chloe saw small jittery movements from several of the room's occupants. She also felt Ares' hand, which had be resting lightly on her left forearm, tense slightly. She had heard stories from several sources of the long ago encounter between Ares, Lana and the Harpyia. Everyone had walked away that time, but it had apparently been a close thing. She just hoped she and Lana could reach their goal before a full assault against the Malebolge Gates became necessary.

Lana's mind seemed to be on the same track, although she carefully didn't allude to their personal mission as she continued. "This sighting should be taken as a good sign. We want as much of the enemies' attention focused on the central force as possible to give the other groups a better chance to break through and encircle the enemies' primary force at the gate. The central army's first task is to make a lot of noise until our other forces are in position. Only then will the assault on the Gate be seriously prosecuted."

Lana paused as though waiting for questions. After a moment the silence was broken.

"You haven't yet said anything about the northern force. Were you waiting for me to ask, or is the news simply that bad?" asked a man with a noticeable drawl.

Chloe looked diagonally across the smoke rising from the brazier and saw the tall, lean, dark-haired leader of the third main branch of Lana's massive army. Here was a man who would have been noticed in any crowd. And even here he managed to stand out. For while everyone else was clad in bits and pieces of armor as well as other implements of war, this man wore none of it. No, he lounged back on a pile of cushions while wearing a white jumpsuit liberally strewn with crystal sequins. He was even wearing a matching short white cape.

"Ah, sorry, King Elvis," began Lana. "Nothing that dramatic, I should have been more specific; the scouts along the northern route have not yet reported back."

The fried peanut butter and banana sandwich in his right hand paused in mid-air, a little more than a third of the way to his mouth. "No reports at all? How many scouts did you send?"

"I sent six teams with four men each. And no, not a single man has reported back."

After taking a bite from his sandwich, Elvis continued. "And you don't find that ominous?"

"Of course, I do. We have known since the beginning with its approach barred by Cacus and the Malebranche, the northern route was the most problematic. But, Elvis, you have always said you were up for the task. Are you changing your mind?"

Elvis set his sandwich down, as though he had just been offended. "By the power of my blue suede shoes, no. I just would be happier knowing what I am getting my Caledonians into."

Chloe looked at this man who on the surface appeared to be the least war-like of any man in the tent. But she knew in his case the looks were deceiving. His followers, from the mysterious land of Caledonia, were by far the largest contingent of Lana's cobbled together army. And his followers were clearly the most fanatical, willing to do anything he asked. She had 'witnessed' one of his motivational sessions for his followers and it was unlike anything she had seen in the three months she had been here. Perhaps if her memories had returned she would have known whether she had seen its like before, but for now her memories continued to be a big blank. However if she had been required to describe his motivational session, she would have likened it to a musical performance. Elvis and his primary lieutenants had been positioned up in front of their troops on a raised platform that looked more like a musical stage than a simple podium for addressing the assembled ranks. And music had been what the session had been all about.

And Elvis had been like a maestro leading a grand orchestra as he used his music to control the emotions of his followers. He had started out with the inspirational 'Rip it up', 'Soldier Boy', and 'Wild in the country'. Then when the followers were at a near frenzy, he pulled it back a notch with 'Good Luck Charm' and 'Fever'.

Chloe had arrived right near the beginning with Lana, Alexander, and Lena. It had taken them awhile to work their way through the crowd, as Elvis' followers were so intend on their leader, they were slow to notice and clear a path. 'Fever' was just nearing its end when they reached the front and Elvis spotted them. With his eyes never seeming to leave her, he immediately transitioned to 'I was born about ten thousand years ago'. Chloe had felt a shiver run down her spine as the words had resonated in her mind. Why did they have such significance to her, she had wondered.

As that song was winding down, Ares had suddenly appeared in the sky above Elvis' assembled horde. With a couple powerful flaps of his wings, he dropped down to a graceful landing beside Chloe. And before Ares had even folded his great feathered appendages, Elvis had smoothly segued into 'Earth Angel'. No matter what circumstances arose the perfect melody seemed to be at the tip of his tongue.

Elvis then cranked it back up with 'King of the Whole Wide World', which started his followers to yelling and screaming. Soon this transitioned into a ground swelling chant of 'Blue . . . Blue . . . Blue'.

He appeared to bow his head for a moment, but then his pelvis began to twitch, his left foot began to tap, and his arms lifted into the air. Then as he began to sing 'Blue Suede Shoes', his entire outfit, including his shoes, magically shifted from brilliant white to a pure baby blue. As the crowd clapped and stamped their feet in time with the music, it became apparent Elvis was endowed with his own variation of magic. Quickly, as he shimmied and rocked across the stage, he began to levitate. Then a translucent sphere seemed to form about him and Chloe had the sense that this sphere was more than just for show; it felt like powerful magic which could block any attack whether physical or magical.

Chloe's thoughts were finally drawn back for the previous evening's events to the more immediate situation ongoing in the war council.

"Well," Lana began in response to Elvis' remark. "We will just have to hope some of them manage to get word back to us while we are on the move and before we cross the frontier into HER territories."

Lana paused and let her eyes roam across the assembled leaders. Chloe followed suit knowing this would be the last time they would be all together until after the coming battles. And as she realized the odds were at least some of them wouldn't make it through alive, she leaned back and pulled Ares' arm around her a little tighter.

"If there aren't any more questions," continued Lana. "I think it is time to break this up, as I am sure you all have pressing duties. If we all stay focused on the primary goal of defeating HER, I am sure we can achieve victory. Once again, thanks to you all for your support and good luck in the coming conflict."

All of the leaders inclined their heads towards the raven-haired girl before starting to rise to their feet. As they began to exit, Lana gave Alexander, Lena, and Ares a nod and they followed suit. After only a couple of minutes, Lana and Chloe were left alone in the tent.

"Whew, I'm glad that is over. I am really tired of all the meetings it has taken to get everything organized," began Lana. Then reaching behind her head she untied the leather strap which had been holding the third eye amulet in place on her forehead. As she dropped the mystical device into a pouch on her belt, she continued. "Ah, finally, I can take this stupid thing off. It always gives me a headache after awhile."

Chloe was glad to take hers off, too. "If it bothers you so much, why wear it? Surely you can trust all of the people who were at this meeting?"

Lana shrugged. "Normally, yes, we all go way back. But I have seen HER subvert people before and I had to know for certain no one had suddenly changed sides."

"I have heard the stories about you and Emperor Tao Ling. And I have heard the stories about you, King Suleiman, and the Jenn, Asmodeus. But I have never heard any about how you first met King Elvis."

Lana got a faraway look in her eyes for a moment. "There was a time when Elvis was almost like a father to me," she began. Then she shook her head. "But it is a long story and would be better told when there is time to share a bottle of wine or two."

Turning her full attention towards Chloe, Lana looked her firmly in the eye. "Now, are you ready for our part in all of this?"

Chloe didn't feel ready, but saying so wasn't going to do any good; this had to be done and they might as well get started. But suddenly she couldn't find her voice and in the end simply nodded.

"Good," said Lana. And Chloe saw a gleam in her eye that said Lana was really anxious to get started. But then Lana had been striving towards this moment for centuries.

"Gather what things you will need for the next five or six days and then meet me and Fah at my tent in an hour."

Chloe was nodding when her gaze was drawn to the opening in the tent. Through it, she could see Ares standing there talking to Alexander. "Ahh," she began.

Lana followed her gaze. "Okay, make it two hours."

The girls shared a quick grin before darting out of the tent and into the waiting arms of their men.

- - - - - 

Fah landed with a gently thud that belied her massive bulk. Quickly the two girls slid off her broad back and landed softly on the rocky ground.

"We go on foot from here," whispered Lana, as though afraid the very rocks might have grown ears.

Chloe nodded as she reached up and retrieved their packs from where they were fastened to the special harness Fah wore for that specific purpose. She had known this moment was coming, but was glad Fah had been able to bring them this far. With two days of flying in a relatively straight line, they were now deep in HER territory. If they had had to come all this way on foot, it would have taken weeks.

Lana hadn't used any of her magical gifts since they had left the army's main camp. To do so would have meant prematurely making their opponent aware of their presences which would have given HER more time to prepare. It was just lucky Fah's wings and the resulting ability to fly fell into a different category which was much more difficult to detect. Well, that was the theory at least, although the exact limits of HER abilities were impossible to learn, which was why Lana had said all along that the final portion of the trek would have to be made on foot. However Chloe had no idea how Lana had decided this was the correct spot for the transition.

Chloe pulled a bow and a quiver of arrows from the first pack and tossed them to Lana before arming herself in a similar manner. They both were already carrying short swords, but Chloe knew she would feel more comfortable if they had weapons with a bit more range. Here in this wild hill country there were probably countless simple predators who would be more than willing to do HER work for her, if they were given an appropriate opportunity.

Lana took a quick swig from a waterskin before passing it on to Chloe. Then she rose to her feet and lifted the pack onto her back. Picking her way carefully, she started walking up the shallow one hundred sixty foot incline separating them from the next crest in what had come to seem like an endless stream of crests. Each new crest merely exposed another long valley and then a steep ascent to the next crest as they climbed from the foothills into the tall foreboding mountains.

As Chloe followed along behind Lana, her eyes swept from the steep cliff rising on their left to the more gently sloped hill on their right. Countless large boulders were strewn about, each providing ample shelter to hide a half a dozen of HER warriors or a large pride of lions or tigers. The place simply felt ominous. Chloe wasn't certain if it was the low-hanging gray clouds, the old skeletal human remains hanging from posts every thirty feet along their path, or simply the overwhelming sense of HER presence at this point so deep in HER territory.

On her arrival in this strange realm, Chloe had wondered about Lana's enemy. Everyone referred to her as HER and even when talking, people somehow still managed to make it sound like it was all in capital letters.

No one else would answer her questions, so eventually Chloe had asked Lana. Lana had responded that she didn't know her enemy's name. However based on her numerous previous experiences, she was certain that knowing her enemy's name would grant her a significant advantage.

Lana had also confided that she hadn't been aware her opponent actually existed in this strangely distorted world until after she had found Alexander – hundreds of years after her first arrival. No, in all the preceding centuries she had been merely trapped in a seemingly endless quest for little bits and pieces of her lost life – bits and pieces which never seemed to coalesce in a useful fashion. But then after the discovery of Alexander she had finally been able to sense HER presence; the one who had kept her trapped in this strange world for all these years. It had taken more centuries and centuries of effort to locate HER stronghold and then assemble a force sufficient to breach its defenses. And that was where things had stood when Lana sensed Chloe's arrival and somehow knew she was the final piece necessary to have a serious hope of defeating her eternal nemesis.

The two girls had been hiking for no more than two minutes when they crested the rise in the trail and everything changed.

When Fah had glided in for the landing, they could clearly see the small valley stretching beyond this valley through which the trail passed before climbing to the next pass. But now there was no valley before them. And no valley behind them where Fah had just landed. Nor even Fah herself, who hadn't been more than ten paces behind Chloe a moment earlier.

No, suddenly the two girls found themselves on a flat, gray plain which stretched as far as the eye could see in all directions. Both girls spun around, trying to understand what had just happened. Quickly, their eyes darted towards the horizon, but it seemed to be impossibly far away, as though they could suddenly see for hundreds, no maybe thousands of miles and all they saw was bleak emptiness.

And when their eyes finally reached the horizon, it was almost impossible to look at, as it blended into the unnaturally bright white of the sky. As their eyes were drawn upward, it was as though the blazing white image of a full moon had been stretched to fill the sky from horizon to horizon. At first glance the sky seemed almost a uniform blinding white, but after a few seconds they could see a dusting of black specks which almost sparkled, although a black sparkle was almost beyond what one could imagine.

Finally, the two girls turned to look at each other and even their appearances looked subtly altered. It took a moment to sink in that the uniformly brilliant sky allowed no shadows to be cast and even something as simple as a face looked different without shadows to highlight its features.

"What just happened?" asked Chloe trying to keep the panic she felt out of her voice; something about this place was completely unnerving.

Lana took a couple steps closer so she was no more than five feet away when she answered and yet Chloe had a hard time hearing her as this strange place simply absorbed all sound. And that was when she realized part of the strangeness of this place was the total lack of background noise - nothing broke the uncanny silence, no animals, no birds, no insects, not even a whisper of a breeze.

"We have been taken somewhere," answered Lana who also was trying without complete success to maintain a calm demeanor. "The legends say the heart of Cocytus should be a frozen lake. They never mentioned any place like this. It has to be HER doing."

Chloe's eyes once again swept the wide, barren plain, which looked exactly the same in all directions. "What do we do now?"

Lana's eyes, too, swept around. "We either wait here to see what happens or we walk."

The mention of walking reminded Chloe of how they had just been flying. And flying reminded her of Lana's magical abilities. "Lana, does your magic work? SHE must know we are here, so there is no point of hiding them any longer."

Lana almost responded that she had run into automated magical traps before which had been left active and forgotten, but truly it didn't feel like the case here. So deciding it couldn't make things much worse, she concentrated on her ability to levitate. Normally, she barely had to think about it to feel her feet lift free of the ground, but now absolutely nothing seemed to happen. Quickly she tried several other aspects of her gift, but again she felt no response.

Shaking her head, Lana responded. "My magic is gone."

In her gut, Chloe was expecting this answer, but it still seemed to amplify the helplessness she was feeling and she hated to feel that way. And simply waiting here also felt like it would reinforce the feeling. After looking around them again, but seeing no clue as to which direction might lead back to where they had last seen Fah, Chloe lifted her arm and pointed in a random direction. "Let's try that way."

Lana took another look around, shrugged, and then strode off at Chloe's side.

They walked in silence for many minutes. Every once in awhile they would pause and look about them, but nothing looked any different. The horizon continued to look thousands of miles away in all directions. Even when they looked back they couldn't tell any difference, as they left no footprints in this strange gray soil which passed for earth. Now, for all they knew they could be walking in circles, but with nothing else to do, they simply trudged on.

Eventually, to break the monotony and the eerie eternal silence, Lana began to speak. She started with her earliest memories of awakening to find herself in 1890's Montana with no idea of how she had gotten there. Then she spoke of her first encounter with Chloe in Sally's bathing emporium and her introduction to the world of magic. She was disappointed when Chloe said she had no memories of such an encounter, but with nothing better to do, she forged ahead with her story.

It seemed like she talked almost non-stop for days or maybe weeks or months as she covered her many experiences over the past two thousand years, most of which were new to Chloe as the three months she had been in Lana's world had been focused on preparing for the upcoming battle. A battle which might have already taken place, Chloe realized as time stretched unending and unchanging on this seemingly infinite plane. And then she even began to wonder if that world of warrior heroes even continued to exist.

Abruptly, Chloe stopped walking and sank to the ground. Lana continued to walk for another ten paces before she even noticed her companion had stopped. Slowly she, too, ground to a halt and then turned and walked back. When she reached Chloe, she sat down heavily beside her.

"What's the matter, Chloe?"

Almost overwhelmed by despair, Chloe gave a slow shrug. "How long does it feel like we have been walking? A week? Two weeks? A month? At a steady three miles an hour, we would cover seventy miles a day, five hundred miles a week. So we should have covered at least a thousand miles by now. Do you see any change? I don't. And have you noticed how we haven't gotten hungry or thirsty? We could continue walking like this forever. So what's the point? We might just as well wait here. Either we are going to wait forever or something will change and this is as good of a place, as any."

Lana had been watching Chloe's face as she spoke and saw the tears beginning to well in her friend's eyes. And she knew Chloe wasn't saying anything she wasn't feeling herself. Slowly she worked her way closer and then wrapped her arm around her friend. For a very long time the two girls sat there slowly rocking as they held each other for support.

At first the sound was so quiet they didn't realize anything had changed with the eternal silence of the place, a silence that had previously only been broken by the sound of their own voices. But steadily it grew in intensity until it broke through the stupor into which they had fallen. And then it grew and grew until they were forced to cover their ears. And still it grew until the pressure wave felt like a solid force slamming into their bodies. A bell. It sounded like a giant brass bell at least a thousand miles tall. And when the gong struck its surrounding sonic-inducing enclosure, it sent out a reverberation which literally shook the ground.

The droning of the impossibly loud bell seemed to go on for hours. And with each toll it seemed to get louder and more powerful. After awhile the girls were forced to give up trying to protect their ears as the ground began to shake so violently they needed the use of their hands to maintain their balance even though they were already sitting down.

Abruptly the tolling of the bell stopped, but at first the girls barely noticed as the ground continued to shake and roll, throwing them madly about. If they hadn't started clasping each other's hands, who knows how far apart they might have drifted.

Then, as abruptly as the bell had stopped, so too did the shaking of the ground. For an instant total silence returned. The girls had just turned to look at each other with relief when the silence was rent by an unearthly howl which seemed to come from everywhere at once. The howling made their skin crawl in a way the bell and the shaking of the ground had never done. For this howl seemed to reach into their very souls and exclaim 'The dead are coming! The DEAD are coming!'

The girls were staring at each other and reading the dread and horror written in the expression on the other's face, when out of their peripheral vision they saw the earth around them begin once more to move. But this time it wasn't like the world-ending earthquake they had experienced earlier. This time it looked like something was trying to force its way up out of the ground. No, not something, but a million somethings or maybe a billion somethings.

Their eyes darted around the immediate area and they saw small piles of dirt being pushed up from the previously flat terrain. Then they saw claw-like hands begin to emerge into the open. These were quickly followed by arms and then tops of heads. As these were followed by shoulders and upper torsos, a voice seemed to start screaming in their heads, 'The dead are rising. The dead are rising. THE DEAD ARE RISING!'

The girls tried to scramble away, but the dead were rising all around them. They ended up back to back, their physical contact the only thing holding the absolute horror even slightly at bay. And then even that slim hold on their sanity came close to shattering as they began to recognize the decomposing faces of the nearest bodies. To their left Lana's aunt Nell rose laboriously to her feet on legs that were nothing more than fully exposed bones. To their right Chloe's father, Gabe, climbed from his grave with most of the flesh on the right side of his face torn away and his right eye dangling outside its socket and jiggling against the exposed bone beneath his cheek. And beyond them stood Lana's parents, Whitney Fordman, Pete Ross, Alicia Baker, and a host of other friends and acquaintances from school, The Torch, and The Talon. And every one of them was in an advanced stage of decomposition.

But the worst was what crawled out of the ground directly in front of them. In front of Lana a battered and wrecked Alexander crawled forth. His beautiful long auburn hair was missing massive clumps which allowed the white of his skull to gleam through. Both eyes and part of his nose were missing. His lower face was just an exposed jawbone with half the visible teeth broken in a jagged manner. And the rest of his body was no better with his left arm nothing more than a limply hanging assortment of bones with just enough flesh remaining to keep it attached at the shoulder. His belly had been cut open and loose entrails hung down passed his knees.

A broken and shattered Ares emerged from the ground in front of Chloe. One of his magnificent wings had been completely denuded of feathers and the other one was simply missing. His skull had been shattered and brain matter oozed down the side of his face and complete hid where his right ear should have been. His eyes were intact and open, but they were simply opaque gray orbs encrusted with the dirt of the surrounding ground. His always white tunic was now a decomposing mess of a matching gray with large gaping rents showing expanses of gray flesh and pearly white bones.

If the suddenly risen dead had paid the girls even the slightest notice, the girls knew they would have been reduced to screaming hysterics, but all their dead friends and relatives seemed to be totally oblivious to them. Slowly they all raised their faces to the sky and seemed to be searching for something, even those without any eyes.

Chloe and Lana clasped hands and forced themselves to their feet. Looking passed their nearby acquaintances they saw risen corpses were stretched beyond them in all directions as far as the eye could see. Having already trudged across that endless expanse for weeks, perhaps months, they knew it would take billions of bodies to fill. Certainly everyone who had ever lived had to now be standing before them. What was going on? What could it possibly mean?

Then the silence was broken by Alexander quietly saying through his once beautiful, but now shattered face, "She comes."

Quickly the chant was taken up by Ares and all of the rest of the nearby corpses. "She comes". And then it spread outwards in concentric circles and at each utterance it became louder and louder. "She comes." Soon millions and then billions of voices had joined in and then all endlessly repeated, "She comes."

Like thunder the words rolled back and forth across the endless plain. "She comes." Finally, Chloe and Lana were shaken from the desultory state into which they had fallen and both realized the 'she' had to be 'HER'. Lana's long time nemesis was approaching and she was coming as a god, perhaps the God. The girls looked at each other and saw true terror in the other's eyes. They had expected to do battle against an equal, not against this.

Then slowly, the voices of the dead were overwhelmed by a new more powerful sound. Like an ocean-sized waterfall, the roaring sound increased to an unbelievable magnitude. It seemed to be coming from everywhere at once, but mostly from above.

Lana and Chloe looked up into the brilliant white sky in the direction that all the nearby corpses had fixated upon. At first they couldn't see anything, but slowly an infinitesimal golden speck became visible in the glare of the white sky. Gradually the speck grew as the object slowly and majestically descended.

Eventually, after many minutes, the speck resolved itself into a golden throne, the most ornate object ever imagined. And surrounding it was a cloud of weaving, darting jewels, which the girls simply knew were an assemblage of angels. And the angels were singing HER praise in the most beautiful voices they had ever heard. It should have been impossible to hear their voices over the continued chanting of the dead and the roar of the throne's descent, but all three infinitely loud sounds could be heard simultaneously.

The throne continued its descent until it filled half the sky. It was clearly miles tall and sized for the one and only true God. The angels, too, began to resolve into individual beings and they were more dazzlingly radiant than anything a mere human could imagine. Each one of them seemed to be at least one thousand feet tall as they swooped down over the assembled dead before circling back to the golden throne next to which they looked as insignificant as gnats.

Slowly something about the movement of the angels, the descent of the throne, and the surrounding hordes of the dead brought out a feeling of déjà vu in Lana. Everything seemed so familiar. She searched back into her damaged memory, but nothing in the last two thousand years seemed to be the source. Against the overwhelming distraction of her surroundings, she fought to find the source of her feeling of recognition.

As she searched her memories, the throne finally paused in its descent to hover barely ten miles above the plain. Its occupant leaned forward ever so slightly, but all the girls could see was the glare of a black so deep it seemed to suck in all light like an infinite black hole. And that's when the final piece clicked into place in Lana's head. She had been through this before. It was the last thing she had experienced before waking in Montana with no memory of her past.

Lana tried shouting to get Chloe's attention, but it would have been impossible for Chloe to have heard her over the barrage of noise coming from the dead, the angels, and the throne even if she had pressed her lips against Chloe's ears.

Instead she began to tug violently against Chloe's arm, but for the longest time Chloe was trapped by the mesmerizing power of the throne's occupant. Finally, Chloe pulled her eyes away and began turning towards the frantic Lana.

Just as the two girls locked eyes, SHE began to speak and the words seemed to spring straight from the center of their souls.

_** - Judgment Day is at hand. Prepare to have your life and soul measured. Those few found worthy will spend all of eternity with me in heaven. The rest will be sent to the everlasting torment of the hell below. - **_

Lana watched as Chloe's eyes lost focus on her and began to once more drift upwards. They might only have seconds before everything was lost forever. Lana ripped her nails through Chloe's arms leaving trails of welling blood before dropping her hands to the pouch still hanging from Chloe's belt. With trembling hands and nearly overwhelmed by the roaring of HER voice in her head, she managed to get the magical amulet out and into Chloe's hand. Then she reached to her own waist and dragged forth her own third eye amulet.

Chloe still had a glazed look in her eyes, but she mimicked Lana's movement and as one they pressed the magical devices against their foreheads.

Instantly, the plain, the dead, the angels, and the throne vanished. They found themselves suddenly back in The Talon standing just inside the front door. And standing over by the coffee bar, they saw their nemesis. Although at first she was almost impossible to see as she was wrapped in an aura so pitch black and foul, it was difficult to see through it to the underlying body.

With unexpected confidence, Lana strode further into the room with Chloe at her side. As they moved, they tied the amulets firmly in place to free their hands.

"I know you," stated Lana clearly, quietly, calmly. "You're Sliviuh and you have been fucking with my body. I want it, no, I DEMAND it back. NOW!"

The face, which was slowly appearing out of the encompassing aura as they moved closer, laughed at her in an almost manic way. And as they closed the distance, Lana could see how it showed characteristics of both her and Chloe's faces.

"No," Sliviuh shouted. "The body is mine now. I will NOT give it up."

Then she, too, took a step forward. And as she did so, she raised her hands and two glowing swords appeared out of the concealing aura.

Immediately, Lana and Chloe drew their weapons and took a step to the right and left to clear some space to fight without hitting each other.

Sliviuh rushed forward on the offensive with both blades spinning so fast they looked more like a cheerleader's batons than swords. Chloe and Lana were briefly forced back by the intensity of Sliviuh's first effort and Lana even suffered a deep cut to her left forearm.

However Lana and Chloe quickly separated even further until they were coming at Sliviuh from almost opposite directions. Sliviuh was forced to retreat slightly to get both girls back on the same side of her. And that was when Lana knew they could take her. Oh, Sliviuh was good, no, better than good, and against either of them alone she would doubtlessly have won. But against their combined might she didn't stand a chance.

The sword battle raged on for many minutes and they all suffered many minor injuries, but at last Sliviuh realized, too, that together they were going to beat her. She went for one last 'all or nothing' shot, and missed. Instantly, two swords flashed into her chest and pierced her black heart.

Sliviuh's twin swords clattered to the floor and then she quickly followed. Her body crumpled forward, driving the swords even deeper until the blood-slicked points protruded eight inches out of her back.

Sliviuh was down, but not truly dead. No, as Lana's strength and memories came racing back, she knew Sliviuh would never be truly dead, as long as she herself continued to live. No, the best she could do was keep her chained up in a deep, dark corner of her mind and hope she never again would be able to escape.

Lana straightened up and was ready to leave what she now knew was a virtual copy of The Talon and return to the real world when she looked over at Chloe. Her blonde friend was standing there and still had a dazed expression on her face, as though the defeat of Sliviuh hadn't had the same restorative effect on her. Lana reached out and touched her friend's hand and through it her real mind and body, which were suddenly within reach with the defeat of Sliviuh. Surprisingly, she found Chloe's mind completely devoid of memories except those she had acquired during the three months she had spent in Lana's prison world.

With the return of her own memories of her life in Smallville, their shared adventure in ancient Rome, and of the 'bot gift Chloe had bestowed on her, Lana knew her 'bot memory system contained a backup copy of Chloe's memories from the last time they had touched. She might end up missing her memories of the last few days, but Lana could at least give most of her life back.

Quickly, Lana set about restoring what she could and as the exchange progressed she could see the light begin to shine behind the eyes of the virtual Chloe standing in front of her.

- - - - - - 

Lex raced down the corridors, retracing the path Tina had taken him on earlier. All the time he kept repeating his mantra, 'Don't let her touch me. Don't let her touch me.'

As he ran he knew he should have been winded by now, but the Samson braid he was wearing seemed able to send him a constant stream of strength and power. Never in his life had he felt this good, not even when Lana or Chloe had touched him and turn his dormant nanobots on.

Almost before he realized it, he had reached the alcove outside the room where he had last seen Chloe. The door from that room still lay out in the center of the floor. For a moment it seemed like hours since he had watched Tina casually tear it loose from its frame. Now that he was wearing the braid, he could understand her action. The braid was intoxicating, almost like a drug. He, too, felt the urge to use his greatly enhanced strength in some destructive way. But he forced the feeling down; he had more urgent matters to attend to.

With a feeling of trepidation he stepped over to the gaping doorway. What was he going to find? Would Sliviuh be kneeling over Chloe's inert form? Would she have already moved Chloe to some more secret, secure location?

He was almost startled to see Chloe lying in the same position he had left her twenty minutes earlier. Why hadn't Sliviuh done something to Chloe by now? What more urgent mischief could she be pursuing?

Wherever Sliviuh was, Lex knew he had to take advantage of this opportunity to get Chloe free. He had no idea how he was going to reverse the effects of having wiped her 'bot memory system, but he could worry about that once they were well clear.

He had only taken two steps into the room when he was hit by a blast of air and Clark was abruptly standing beside him. And then Clark almost instantly moved over to Chloe and was gently lifting her into his arms.

Lex slowly made his way over to his two friends and as he walked he got back to wondering how they were going to stop Sliviuh now that the device had been destroyed. He had almost reached Clark and Chloe when he heard a low moan that didn't seem to come for Chloe, who was slowly coming awake. Lex looked down slightly to Chloe's left, but at first he didn't see anything. Then he saw a pair of eyes blinking in his direction. No face, no head, no body, just a pair of eyes hovering about six inches above the floor. The eyes were a very dark green with flecks that made them almost look brown. They were eyes he had spent hours staring into from close range over the past few weeks. They were Lana's eyes.

"Lex."

He heard his name whispered and he recognized the tone. It was not a tone Sliviuh or even Tina would ever use. No, it was the special voice only Lana used. His Lana. He had no idea how she could have ended up lying on this floor invisible except or her eyes, but she was. Quickly he sank to his knees beside where her head must be. He reached down and felt her long luxurious hair. Then he gently slid his right hand under her head and gently lifted it.

It was briefly disconcerting to look passed her eyes and see his own hand, but he quickly remembered his previous encounter with his former housekeeper's son, Jeff. Carefully, he reached into his left pant's pocket and pulled out his kerchief. Gently, he wiped at Lana's face until most of her forehead, nose, cheeks, and mouth were visible. It still felt surreal to look through the gaps where the invisibility potion still clung to her face, but it was much better than just a pair of floating eyes.

He felt, rather than saw, her hand reach behind his head and slide through his short stubbly hair. Quickly he felt her grip tighten and she began to pull his face down.

"Lex, I have missed you for so long."

Lex thought with her week spent back in 1936 he knew what she meant. But he had no idea about the two thousand years that had gone by since then from her perspective.

However he didn't let those thoughts slow his movement as he bent down and kissed her deeply. For just a moment, as she sucked his tongue into her mouth, he wondered what it would look like with her mostly invisible head. But then for awhile he simply stopped thinking and focused on the moment.

Finally, after what felt like several minutes, Lex broke the kiss and looked over at his old friend. He needn't have worried about how his kiss with Lana might have looked; Clark and Chloe were too busy sharing a kiss of their own.

Apparently sensing his gaze, Chloe and Clark concluded their kiss and looked over.

"So, Lex, what's it like to kiss an invisible girl?" asked Chloe with a grin.

Lex had been casually caressing the invisible arm that was attached to the hand behind his head. Slowly as he slid it down to where it joined her shoulder, he realized not only was Lana invisible, she was also naked. All of a sudden he felt a tightness in his groin which was more pleasant than anything he had experienced with the Lana look-a-like Tina even when she had had his pants down around his knees.

With some difficulty, as his fingers swept across Lana's thankfully invisible left nipple, he forced part of his attention on what Chloe had said and then more importantly on to the implication of her saying it.

"Chloe, you're alright. How is that possible? I know the device wiped out your memories."

Chloe smiled at him and then in the direction of Lana's disembodied face. "Oh, I had a little help from a friend."

Lex watched as Clark again commanded Chloe's attention with another kiss. And then he felt Lana pull him back down for more of the same. Lex's last thought before he sank into the passion of the moment, was that things were finally back to normal or at least as normal as they would ever be in Smallville.

**THE END**

Epilogue Part 1 – Ch'uxuqullu, Isla del Sol, Lake Titicaca, Bolivia - August 1st, 1937

Marion Jones set down the camel's hair brush she had been using to remove the last few bits of dirt and dust from the large fragment of pottery she had uncovered. Stretching her arms above her head she twisted her shoulders and her back to work out a few of the chinks. She was coming to the conclusion she was getting to old to be working down here in the trench for hours at a time. It wasn't like Hank hadn't brought along a group of eager young students who could do the preliminary back-breaking work. From the beginning Hank had suggested she take charge of the cataloging activities which could be done from the relative comfort of one of the large tents and now she was seriously thinking of taking him up on the offer.

Carefully and slowly she levered herself up from her kneeling position at the same time picking up the white towel she had been using to protect the knees of her khaki slacks. They had been on-site for three weeks now, but her body was still struggling to adapt to the thin air at this twelve thousand five hundred foot altitude. If she moved at much faster than a walk her heart would start racing like it normally only would when she and Hank were in some dangerous situation.

As she turned and looked down the hillside to the broad expanse of the surrounding lake, she reflected on how quiet this summer had been and mentally crossed her fingers that it would remain so. They had left the States in early June and had travel by ship to Buenos Aires, Argentina. Then they had transferred to a smaller riverboat for the trip up the Rio Parana to Asuncion, Paraguay. Then it had been three days on an old turn-of-the-century steam train to La Paz, Bolivia. Finally, it had been two days of driving on mountain roads in three hired trucks and two cars to reach the lake. Fortunately, the whole four week journey had passed with very little excitement and not a minute of peril.

Hank had last excavated near the lake in 1935 before the crazy year of 1936 when she and he had reconnected and then been involved with the whole Ark thing and then the even stranger events in Germany. During his previous trips to the area Hank had been working along the shore of the lake about ten miles further north. But based on her experiences with Lana, which now seemed like little more than a dream, she had suggested they explore this island before settling on a dig site.

They had chartered a boat to bring them, Hank's ten students, and Gretchen out to the island for a day of hiking. Marion had for some reason been expecting the place to be deserted like some old west ghost town, but they learned the shoreline was dotted with five modest villages. The ship put in at the one with a sturdy wooden wharf and they had simply walked ashore.

At once the place had felt vaguely familiar to Marion and as she had scanned the surrounding hillsides, she spotted several large rock outcroppings which seemed to orient her to the location of the Jaguar City of her memories. Hank must have recognized the expression on her face, as he quickly assented to follow her as she had headed out of the village and up an old, disused trail.

Now, Marion stood halfway up the hillside, knee deep in a trench in the spot she was certain was where the palace had been that Lana had taken her to and where she had first met the strange girl, Laura.

A flash of color in her peripheral vision caused her to turn and look further up the hill. In the distance she could see two people making their way down towards her. For just a second Marion felt a flash of panic at being out here by herself. Normally, a number of the students would be working here, too, but Hank insisted they all put in a minimum of two hours of classroom work every morning. Of course, she thought with a mental grin, he always somehow failed to mention that the students until after the trip got underway. And the mental grin was followed by a flash of annoyance for the brief sense of panic; she had been through a lot of tough situations in her life and a couple of people walking down a hillside shouldn't cause such a reaction.

Turning her attention to the approaching strangers, she quickly made out they were a man and a woman. The man was much taller than the woman. He had dark hair and was wearing a red jacket and a pair of blue jeans and was carrying a canvas knapsack over one shoulder. The woman had short blonde hair and was wearing khaki slacks and jacket much like her own.

The man started waving to her and that was when she recognized him. It was Clark Kent from the adventures in Germany almost exactly one year earlier. Then her heart seemed to miss a beat as she realized the woman with him was Laura, the girl from her dreams, or was it nightmares? However she quickly remembered that Laura only existed in Lana's mind and this had to be the other one with the same face and body. But at this moment, for the life of her, she couldn't remember her name.

Marion wasn't certain of her feelings at seeing them. If it had just been Clark, she would have been excited and glad, but the girl scared her. She still remembered what Lana was capable of doing with the merest touch.

"Hi, Marion," called Clark as he broke into a jog to cover the last thirty feet.

He quickly pulled her into a hug which Marion half-heartedly returned as she looked past his shoulder at the slowly approaching girl.

"Clark, it is good to see you again after all this time," responded Marion as she disengaged from the hug and took a step back to keep Clark partially between herself and the approaching girl.

She was trying to watch both the girl and Clark at the same time and only briefly glimpse the frown which creased his young face for an instant before his face brightened again.

"You would think I would be used to it by now, but in the excitement of seeing you again I forgot it has been a year for you while to me it has been less than ten days."

Just then the blonde girl joined them and casual wrapped an arm around Clark's waist.

"Oh," continued Clark, "You haven't met before. This is my girlfriend, Chloe . . . Chloe Sullivan."

Chloe raised her hand as though to shake Marion's, but then reading something in Marion's expression she let it drop back to her side.

"Hello, Marion. I am not here to cause trouble and won't touch you without your permission."

Marion released a breath she hadn't noticed she was holding, as Clark shot a look back and forth between the two women.

"Clark," began Chloe with a warm, relaxed smile. "Some things happened between Marion and Lana and Laura on the battleship. Things Lana or I can explain some other time. For now, it is simply best if she and I avoid touching."

Marion watched as some light seemed to dawn in Clark's eyes. For someone from the future, he was sometimes just as easy to read as any other guy.

"So to what do we owe the pleasure of this visit?" asked Marion starting to feel a little better. Then she remembered how trouble seemed to follow these guys and appended, "There isn't more trouble?"

Chloe shook her head. "No trouble for you here. There are a few problems back home and it seemed like a good time to get away for a few days and think some things through."

Marion looked at Clark, "Trouble?"

"Oh, just a few paparazzi hanging around my family's farm - twenty-four/seven."

Chloe saw Marion didn't have a clue what Clark was talking about. "What Clark means is there are a few members of the press hanging around his farm looking for a story. And he finds it sort of annoying."

Clark looked down at Chloe and wondered how she could make light of things which threatened his privacy and the safety of his family and friends. Well, okay, he had to admit things hadn't turned out as bad as they had appeared the morning after the events in the storm cellar when six network news trucks and at least fifty other reporters had shown up at his front doorstep; all of them waving blurry photos that looked vaguely like him.

But then having access to a time machine certainly helped in defusing the situation. Chloe and he had used the time machine to acquire another gown and tuxedo and then they had returned to the dance at the school mere seconds after they had departed for the storm cellar. Then while they had waited out the tornado warning in the school's storm shelter, Chloe had led Clark over to where acting Principal Anderson, who was running the high school until a permanent replacement for Kwan was found, and two of the school board members were standing. Clark hadn't particularly enjoyed the ensuing conversation where Chloe put on her 'Torch reporter' hat and began haranguing them about school policy. He understood she was building him an alibi with extremely reputable witnesses for the time when there were reports of his activity all over the globe, but it wasn't nearly as much fun as attending the dance with her should have been.

By the time the tornado warning ended and the dance was getting restarted, Clark thought he could see actual steam coming out of the ears of Ms. Anderson and the members of the board. He even thought for a moment she was going to tell Chloe to 'fuck off' to her face, but she managed to remember she was the principal and Chloe was a student and bit her tongue. Although with a frigid expression, she did tell Chloe the topic could wait until Monday and please go enjoy the dance.

Clark thought that was going to be the end of it, but obviously Chloe wanted to ensure everyone saw and remembered Clark was there for at least a couple of more hours, because she next did something Clark had never expected. As the band was cranking up the first number and while maintaining a firm hold on Clark's right hand, she had marched up the stairs to the stage, strode up to the leader and told him she would be singing with them. Without giving him any time to argue, she had grabbed the microphone from his hand, turned towards the audience and started to sing.

Someone had splurged, and Clark suspected it had secretly been Lex, and had hire a good band rather than just some home-grown band made up of Smallville students. But as soon as Chloe opened her mouth it was obvious she was way, way out of their league. Clark should have realized based on everything he knew about her thousands of years of life that she would be just as proficient at this as everything she could do. But he was as dumbfounded as everyone else in the audience as silence briefly fell except for Chloe's powerful and fluid voice that seemed like it could have filled the whole gymnasium even without the aid of the microphone. The first one to overcome his shock at her gift was the front man for the band and he quickly gestured for the rest of the band to 'kick it'. They had always been just a killer lead singer away from the transition from medium venue regulars to the big time. And with the girl's remarkable talents, he wasn't about to waste this opportunity.

Fortunately, except for the lack of a first class lead singer, the band was good. They could cover a lot of songs from fast to slow, rock to country, and no matter what they tried, Chloe was up for the challenge. And the whole time Chloe kept at least one hand on Clark so the entire audience would be witnesses to his presence for the duration of the dance.

So when the entire media circus had descended on the Kent farm the next morning, they had credible witnesses and even numerous videos clearly showing Clark had been at the school the entire time the strange events had been occurring in many faraway places around the world. And as quickly as it had appeared, the media frenzy had evaporated except for a handful of tabloid reporters.

Dragging his mind back to the conversation with Chloe and Marion, Clark responded. "Okay, so the trouble back home may not be that severe. Maybe I was just looking for an excuse to spend a little time with Chloe away from prying eyes."

Chloe grinned. "Do the prying eyes you're referring to belong to the reporters or to your parents?"

Clark's face turned a little red and it wasn't due to the combined effects of the bright sun and thin air.

Marion recognized Clark's embarrassment and wanted to change the subject. Unfortunately the first topic that popped into her head wasn't particular fun or upbeat.

"Chloe, were you good friends with Whitney, too? I am so sorry about what happened to him and that Hank and I couldn't do anything to help him."

"Yes, I am," answered Chloe. "And don't worry about not being able to help Whitney. He's okay and everything turned out fine."

"What do you mean he's okay? I saw him die."

"Well, when you have access to a time machine almost anything is possible. We managed to retrieve his body shortly after you last saw him and before he was truly and forever dead. We revived him and he is perfectly fine and back home."

Deciding the details weren't really important or possibly even comprehensible to Marion, Chloe didn't go into them. However when Chloe and Lana were stripping the effects of Sliviuh's programming out of Alicia's mind, she had discovered the girl had it bad for Whitney. And since Lana had moved on to Lex, Chloe had decided there wasn't any reason she couldn't take a shot at fixing up Alicia and Whitney. Whitney might still be bound for the Marines and a stay at Camp Pendleton out in California, but a long distance relationship hardly seemed like an obstacle with Alicia's ability to teleport.

So when the time came to retrieve Whitney from the sinking battleship, Chloe had brought Alicia along in addition to Clark. And after reviving Whitney, Chloe had insisted on an evening of pub-crawling in London before returning to the present. As she could easily predict from her vast experience, by the time the evening was over, things had begun progressing nicely between Whitney and Alicia. In the end, they used the time machine to drop Whitney by Camp Pendleton's front gate on the morning he was due to report even though home for the other three was more than a week further into the future.

As Marion stood there once more reeling from how strange the lives of these kids from the future were, Hank came up the hill from their main campsite leading Gretchen and his group of student volunteers.

"Clark," exclaimed Hank as he got close enough to make out who was standing with his wife. He broke into a jog and then when he reached them he pulled the younger man into a hug and clapped him repeatedly on the back.

"Clark, this is such a pleasant surprise. What are you doing here?"

Not wanting to go through everything they had just covered with Marion again, Clark simply answered, "Oh, we were just in the area doing a little camping and thought we would drop in and say hi."

Then Clark pulled back a little. "Hank, this is my girlfriend, Chloe."

With none of the hesitation Marion had showed, Hank reached forward and vigorously shook Chloe's hand. "It is nice to finally meet you, although I clearly recognize your face from that movie thing on Var El's ship."

"Ah, yes, Clark has been telling me about that, one more item on my list of things to do when I manage to scrounge up the necessary costume."

Gretchen, who had been hanging slightly back with the rest of the students, stepped forward. Clark was glad to see she looked healthy and a lot happier than when he had last seen her. But then he reflected, she had had a year to get over her father's death at the hand of the Nazis, an event which had occurred just hours before he had first met her.

"Clark, it is good to see you again."

"It is good to see you, too, Gretchen," answered Clark as he took in how a year in the States had removed almost all traces of a German accent from her voice.

"Ah, Clark, since Hank has already mentioned him, do you have any word on what happened to Var El after we all went our separate ways in Washington?"

Clark glanced over at the assembled students, who were still standing nearby and probably trying to figure out how two unknown Americans had suddenly appeared on an island in the middle of a large lake thousands of miles from home.

Hank apparently followed Clark's gaze for he quickly turned his attention to his students. "Okay, guys, these are some old friends of mine. There will be plenty of time for introductions during lunch. Now, how about you all get to work? We only have two more weeks before we have to head for home."

As they nodded and turned to pick up their tools from neat rows over in the corner of the dig area, Hank led his small group in the opposite direction.

Once they were well out of earshot, Clark answered Gretchen's question. "Var made it home safely. He had ten good years with his family. Then when he and his wife were attempting to make a return trip to Earth, they had an accident. His wife was killed and Var was badly crippled."

All three of the 1937 residents appeared about to make the standard comments of sympathy when Chloe spoke up. "Clark and I only just found out about it. One of the first tasks we plan when we get back home is to see if we can rectify the situation."

"Rectify?" echoed Gretchen who along with Hank had missed the earlier discussion about the revival of Whitney.

"Yeah, hopefully with a little thought and effort we can reverse her death just like with Whitney."

"Whitney's alive?" gasped Gretchen.

Chloe took one look at Gretchen's face and knew she had had at least a 'crush' on Whitney. And Chloe knew it wasn't hard too understand – Whitney was tall, blonde, handsome, and almost as much of a hunk as Clark. She knew enough about events back in 1936 to know Gretchen's father had been killed right before her eyes. Whitney hadn't died in front of her, but his death could still have been a devastating blow so soon after the loss of her father.

"Yeah, Whitney is alive and well." Chloe began. But before Gretchen had time to develop any false hopes, she added. "But he is back 'home' now and it is very unlikely you will ever see him again."

Chloe had expected to see a look of disappointment, but Gretchen just nodded. With Whitney's apparent death, obviously the girl had moved on with her life.

"Clark," began Marion drawing the conversation away from Whitney and back to Var El. "When you were standing by Var back on his ship and we were watching the movie thing from Chloe, I noticed a truly striking similarity between his profile and yours. I have wondered ever since, are you related?"

Clark hesitated for just a moment. Then he decided since they already knew about the time machine and the existence of aliens, what did it matter if they knew he, too, was an alien? "I didn't know for certain at the time, although I suspected we were from the same place. But I now know that, yes, we are related. Var is my great grandfather. And that's a large part of why I want to help him to recover from his injuries and see if we can retrieve his wife, my great grandmother."

Marion nodded as though she had suspected this answer all along.

"So Hank," began Chloe as she started walking away from the dig area and headed further up the slope. "How has the dig been going so far? Found anything interesting?"

Hank started following her and then so did the others.

"Oh, just the usual – broken pottery, cooking utensils, arrowheads, a few foundation stones, and the like. Plenty exciting for an old archeologist, but probably not for anyone else."

"Hmm, well I think it is time you do a little better. An old friend suggested you might be interested in a ten thousand year old sacred 'Golden Sun Disk of Lemuria' and I am here to deliver."

Hank's eyes lit up like he was about to receive his ten best ever Christmas gifts all rolled up into one. But Clark had been watching Chloe and surprisingly she had shot a meaningful glance at Gretchen and not Hank as she spoke. What new train of events was she setting in motion he wondered. And when would he find out he wondered, because Chloe tended to think in terms of decades and centuries the way everyone else thought in weeks or months.

As they continued up the hill to some secret passageway only Chloe knew, Clark couldn't suppress a grin. Since learning the secret about Chloe's long, long life, there hadn't been a single dull moment.

Epilogue Part 2 – Ennis, Montana – Three weeks after the events in the storm cellar

Lana stood near the top of the hill which gave a good overview of the small community of Ennis, Montana – population 857. She watched as Lex made his way down the steep incline to where the Range Rover was parked. She had asked for some time alone to think and Lex had graciously assented. The same way he had been handling her with kid gloves ever since 'The Night of Sliviuh', as he and Clark referred to it.

She looked out across the town in the fading afternoon light, but found nothing remarkable about it. It was a small rural town in cattle country about seventy miles northwest of Yellowstone. They had been here three days and had toured the small art shops and galleries, attended a rodeo, and even run in a half-marathon. The half had certainly been the highlight as they had run together and with a little boost from her 'bots they had set a blistering pace for the first ten miles. But then they had walked the final three as it would hardly be prudent for them to set new world records in some little backwater race. No, they didn't need to find themselves in a similar mess to what had nearly befallen Clark.

But she hadn't come to Ennis to look at art or run races; she had come here hoping to find answers. And so far none had presented themselves. Neither Chloe nor Laura had any recollection of having been here in the 1890s, as Chloe had been in England at the time. Nor did they have any recollection of having been here at any other time and with their 'bot enhanced memories, it wasn't something they would forget.

And since she hadn't been born until the 1980s, it was impossible that it was her memories she had accessed in creating the 1890s Ennis she had experienced in her virtual reality world. Yet it was obvious the virtual reality world had been based on the real thing, as the terrain matched and even a few of the older looking buildings were roughly the same. So where had the memories come from?

Slowly Lana shook her head. She might never know the answer. But was the source of the memories important or was she really looking for something else and that was just a convenient crutch?

If she looked deep inside, she knew what she was looking for was a way to break free of the melancholy state she had been in ever since the defeat of Sliviuh.

The first few days had passed by in a blur; no, a daze was certainly more accurate. Three days of the school year had remained before the summer recess. She had attended school, but it had felt completely weird. For with her 'bot powered memories, the near two thousand years she had spent in the virtual reality world seemed just as real as her previous life. Oh, thanks to the perfect recall provided by the 'bots, it wasn't like she had completely forgotten her original life, no, she still knew the names of all her teachers and friends. But in some ways those days truly felt like they were thousands of years in the past and no longer had the same significance they once had.

She had tried talking to Chloe about it since she had gone through something similar when she had had to relive the two thousand years from ancient Rome for a second time before rejoining them in Smallville barely a week earlier. But somehow it still wasn't the same. Chloe was going back two thousand years in a life that spanned nineteen thousand years; while Lana was trying to go back two thousand years in a life that spanned only two thousand sixteen years. It definitely wasn't the same.

Chloe had tried to be as supportive as she could and they had spent a lot of time together in those first few days. Oh, most of it hadn't been focused on Lana's mental state, but rather on the task of trying to clean up the mess Sliviuh had left behind. Sliviuh had not only enthralled a number of their family members, friends, and acquaintances like Clark's Dad, Nell, Alicia, Tina, Jeff, and even Roger Nixon, but also she had done it to a lot of strangers, too. It had been a delicate task to try and deprogram her victims and it was something neither of them could risk trying to often alone. For Sliviuh wasn't truly dead, but was merely trapped in the deep dark recesses of their minds like the proverbial 'Prometheus chained to the rock'. And when they used their gifts to meddle with people's minds, there was always the risk of unleashing her like Laura had done back on the battleship. And that was one genie neither Chloe nor Lana wanted to let out of the bottle anytime soon. So they had almost always worked as a team to ensure they had more than enough mental strength to keep Sliviuh safely in her cage.

But once all of Sliviuh's victims they could find had been treated and school had finally ended for the summer, Lana had felt even more lost than before. Finally, Lex had suggested perhaps a change of scenery would help and she had selected Ennis.

Now standing here looking down on the small town, Lana knew it wasn't the answer. The answer wasn't a physical location, because the problem wasn't physical problem. The problem was all in her head. For if she was really honest with herself, the problem was she missed her life in the virtual world. There she could fly, do magic, lead armies into battle. But here in the 'real' world her life was just so . . . small.

"Your life here will only be small as long as you let it be small," said a familiar voice from beside her.

Lana looked to her left and Laura was standing there. She was manifesting her original Chloe-like appearance rather than the winged Sphinx she had used for so long in the virtual world. Standing next to her was Ares with one of his arms draped casually around her. The 'bot system made them appear to be perfectly real to Lana right down to their hair ruffling in perfect sync with the breeze.

Laura wasn't supposed to access Lana's innermost thoughts, but at the moment she obviously was.

"What do you mean?" asked Lana hoping no one was watching her with binoculars or a telescope as she appeared to talk to the empty air.

"Perhaps you can't fly or do magic in the real world, but you aren't without gifts that will give you an edge over other people," answered Laura.

And then a new voice spoke from her other side. "And you are wrong to look on those thousands of years of memories of the virtual world as a handicap. Used correctly they aren't a disadvantage, but an asset. You learned a lot during those years. You are a much stronger person now than you were before. You HAVE led armies and it makes no difference whether they are virtual or real. You know how to be a leader, but it is up to you to decide whether you want to small or great in the 'real' world."

Lana looked to her right and Alexander stood there with his glorious shoulder length auburn hair and wearing a simple white tunic which showed off his warrior's physique.

Lana suddenly knew he was right; she was wallowing in her old existence rather than moving forward to create a new, improved destiny. But she also knew there was more to it than just that. There was the whole issue of Lex and Alexander. Or perhaps Lex versus Alexander. She loved them both, but if it came down to it, she loved Alexander more. They had been together almost every day for twelve hundred years versus the handful of weeks she had had with Lex. How could she keep both of them in her life? How could she even explain about Alexander to Lex?

"What do I do about Lex?" she asked her long-time husband.

Alexander put his arm about her and the 'bot system made it feel as real as the visual image of him standing beside her.

"You have to use his 'bots to bring him into the virtual world so the three of us can discuss it and see if we can come to some kind of an understanding," Alexander said. Then giving her arm a gently squeeze, he continued. "If he can't accept the situation, well, at least the truth will be out in the open and I think that will be best for everyone."

Lana nodded. She was finally able to admit to herself the 'Lex versus Alexander' question was the heart of her problem. If she could get passed that, one way or the other, she could finally move forward with her life.

When she had tried to make the break from Whitney after returning from Ancient Rome, she had procrastinated so long, things had almost ended in disaster. But that had been a sixteen-year-old Lana. Now it was a two-thousand-year-old Lana, a long time leader of men, who headed briskly down the hill to talk to Lex and take control of her destiny.

Epilogue Part 3 – Chloe's secret laboratory – 2:38 AM, seventeen hours before the events in the storm cellar

Sliviuh's fingers danced over the keyboard as she rapidly brought system after system online to fully activate the time machine. As she worked, the two paramedics she had enthralled in Metropolis pushed the gurney with its heavily restrained passenger into position.

Ever since Lana had nearly broken free in the hours immediately after her arrival from 1936, she had been thinking about a backup plan in case she failed to secure her old body before Lana regained control of this one. Since Lana was the only one to ever end up with an active 'bot system after the sharing of blood, Sliviuh needed some way of duplicating the effect with another body. The only thing unique about Lana versus everyone else she had ever shared blood with, including several residents of Smallville, was the meteor rock pendant Lana had worn for thirteen of her sixteen years. Prolonged, continuous exposure to the meteor rock had somehow altered her body so that the 'bots stayed active even after physical contact with Chloe's body had been broken.

Sliviuh knew she couldn't achieve a years long exposure to another body in the few hours she had left. Nor was it likely she would find someone else who had been wearing a similar piece of meteor rock jewelry in the time she had available. However an idea had occurred to her that had never been tried before. What if she made the transfer of blood and 'bots while being exposed to a truly intense field of meteor rock radiation?

Based on the effect she had seen when Clark went through the portal device versus what she knew of his response to an ordinary piece of meteor rock. The field within the portal had to be at least a thousand times more intense than a simple pile of the rocks. So what would be the response, if she made the transfer right in the middle of portal field?

Since this was the best solution she had come up with to end up with a backup body, she had to give it a try. And if it was a failure and the test subject either didn't respond or even simply died, well, what did the price of a single life mean to her?

The fine hairs on her arms started to stand on end as the portal machine reached full power and the green doorway began to form. Calmly she picked up the long sharp knife lying next to the keyboard and made her way over to the waiting gurney. Then waving the two attendants back, she personally pushed it forward until it was centered in the field with the far end almost protruding out into the destination room and the exposed near end still several inches within the lab.

Stepping up next to the gurney the portal's harsh green light drowned out all other colors, yet Sliviuh didn't feel any other effect on her host body. Looking down at the figure strapped to the cart, she worked the left hand free and then quickly slashed it and her own.

Squeezing the two blood-soaked appendages with a firm grip, she turned her mind inward and began the process of colonizing the other body with the nanobots. A handful of seconds passed as generation after generation of nanobots replicated and spread. Then abruptly the colonization process was done and the transfer of her memories began.

While they remained in contact the nanobot system in the new body would remain active and her own. But the true test would come when she ended physical contact. Knowing it was now or never, Sliviuh released her grip and turned to watch the other's face which was still washed by the green glow of the active Portal. Two nods, one shake, and then two more nods left her feeling triumphant. It had worked. Her mind had been duplicated and was still in charge of the other body. Now for the ultimate test. She pushed the gurney through the Portal and into the large bedroom suite beyond. Then when she was well clear of the field, she leaned over the other face once again. Two shakes, two nods, and three more shakes revealed the transfer appeared to be permanent. Quickly Sliviuh-One began unbuckling the restraints to release Sliviuh-Two.

Once Sliviuh-Two was clear, she watched as Sliviuh-One pushed the now empty gurney back through the Portal. And she knew even as she went, the version in Lana's body was busily erasing all memories of these events from her 'bot system. Once she and the two paramedics were back in Metropolis, no memories would exist in Lana's body to betray the existence of this duplicate, in case Sliviuh-One failed in her mission to reacquire her original body. If she was successful, Sliviuh-Two would eventually know and then could initiate contact. Two bodies would certain make maintaining control of the planet easier. Plus if the Portal duplication worked once, it should work again and again. The thought was utterly delicious.

Sliviuh-Two glanced around the large bedroom which would be her new home for awhile and then headed for the bathroom with its wall of mirrors. As she moved it took a moment to adjust to the size and gait of this new body which was so very different from her original or even Lana's.

Stepping up to the bathroom mirror she took in the great mane of dark brown hair. It had a scattering of silver, but she knew the 'bots were already busy returning this body to its prime. Then she reached down and felt between her new legs. A nice big fat cock hung there just waiting to be put to use. Oh, it was going to be such a rush to be a man after thousands of years in a feeble woman's body. She looked into the mirror at her new rugged countenance and couldn't suppress a smirk.

Oh, she was going to be a magnificent bastard, indeed!

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Author's Note

Whew, when I started this all I had in mind was having Clark learn to fly and go up against a Nazi battleship, which seemed like a nice step up from battling Roman soldiers in the first story. I thought it wouldn't run more than fifty thousand words and was already thinking in terms of a second follow-on story arc to get it to a novel length. But now here we are three & a half years and three hundred fifty thousand words later. Wow.

Anyway, if you are reading this, I am assuming you have read the whole story. And unless you read a lot faster than I do, you must have invested fifteen or twenty hours of your time. So how about spending five more minutes and drop me a review? I would like to hear what bits were your favorite or what aspects you hated the most or if you would like to see another sequel.

Personally, I think my favorite part was the chapter where Clark and Whitney traveled down to Dresden to see the original Chloe. Almost no action in that chapter, but I really liked how the character interaction worked. My next favorite part was probably where Lana was battling the two henchmen in the ballroom of the chateau and she got her first real test of her abilities and her first taste of the virtual reality possibilities.

My least favorite bit – hmm, possibly the inclusion of Indiana Jones. Oh, the Samson braids made for some fun battles for Clark, but the biblical references from Indiana Jones and the pseudo-science/long timeline of Superman/Krypton portions of the story just never mixed comfortably to me. I know a lot of people didn't care for Sliviuh when I first introduced her and even I had some doubts, but the story seemed to need a strong protagonist to carry it to the conclusion. The first story definitely peaked in Rome and then sort of petered out at the end and this time I wanted the story to end with more of a bang. Plus to me this was mainly Lana's story and including Sliviuh gave Lana's character more room to grow.

As far as sequel possibilities, at the moment I am leaning towards a story set back near the end of Chloe's original civilization. I think for a change of pace it will mostly take place in outer space with Clark, Chloe, Lex, and Lana battling the alien race which destroys Chloe's civilization. And since Clark is the last son of Krypton it seemed like it would be an interesting juxtaposition if he was also somehow involved with the origin of the Krypton race. Plus there are plenty of other things to explore like what is the true origin of his suit. Anyway, those are my thoughts for a sequel at the moment, but then look at how far this present story diverged from my original thoughts, I never really know what is going to happen until I put fingers to the keyboard.

Thanks for reading and I hope you are having a great day!

Duane


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